#The Model Y
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❤️Happy Valentines Day❤️
Today you received a picture from a special photoshoot, it seems it's from a man who exists to charm you with his beauty. Which gift are you most exited for?
#elias#yandere pretty boyfriend#yandere model#valentines#valentines day#digital art#artists on tumblr#yandere#male yandere#illustration#illustrators on tumblr#illustrative art#illustrator#male yandere x reader#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x darling#yandere x y/n#oc#my oc#yandere male#original yandere#original character#yandere original character#original art#my art#aestethic#valentines aesthetic#love#yandere pretty boy
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katsuki being a pr nightmare? nothing new.
he didn't spare people his thoughts, cursing his way through the press and speaking his true feelings constantly. it's why he was liked, it was his unique charm they'd say.
but this time, a dating scandal had come out. well, more of a romance one.
his private twitter was leaked, one he'd mostly use to detail his feelings on the day. among the dozens of posts that were expectedly vulgar and self assured, recent ones stuck out.
over fan posts of you, a model he seemed to have been a huge fan of for a while. it became evident just how much of a loser he was. he'd quote them with small words like, "i bet her parents high five when they see her face," or "she looks just as good as prime all might did."
his name was trending heavily the next day, he was noticeably annoyed, now he'd have to make a whole new spam! he was called by his agency, which he expected.
though as he walked in, he did not expect to see you, golden with the afternoon sun and greeting him with a warm, smile. not a practiced one you'd use for photo shoots, no. he could tell the difference.
his manager cleared their throat, signaling for him to sit down before they started.
"i think we should capitalize of these crushes of yours."
he grew big eyed, looking at you now from the corner of his eye.
you felt the same way??
taglist: @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @i-the-fluffo @uy242c @irenne-stans
#guys fake dating is my favorite trope i have to come out and say it#prohero!bakugo#model!reader#lilac's late night talks ✧#bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo#bakugo x y/n#bakugo katuski#bakugo x you#bakugo fluff#katsuki x you#bakugo drabble#mha x you#mha drabbles#bnha drabble#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bakugo x female reader#katsuki x y/n#katsuki x reader#mha fluff
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𝐗𝐎𝐗𝐎
jinx x fem!bombshell!reader
synopsis: You are a model for (victorias secret equivalent but in arcane universe) and jinx becomes infatuated with you. Known for you bombshell persona and explosive personality, you are the most well known model in all of piltover and zaun. Possibility even watching noxus and the other regions.
warnings: 18+, smut, kissing, smut, wlw , the use of a toy, jinx calls you sugar,
a/n: my first jinx fic <3, also on ao3 (not yet, under doorkiluv)
note | pls give me feedback (and don't only just like but also reblog and comment) this was supposed to be short but it went overboard
𓏲 ˖. ♡ 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐱 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 for Piltover. Too clean, too polished, too boring. The people were all fake smiles and ridiculous hats, and she preferred the chaos of Zaun to its glittering streets. That all changed the day she first saw you. She’d been in Piltover on a whim, loitering in the shadows as she planned her next prank. Explosives in a fancy clock tower, maybe? She hadn’t decided yet. But her chaotic thoughts screeched to a halt when she looked up at the enormous neon screen in Piltover Square and saw your beautiful face.
You were walking down the runway in a show so glamorous it put Piltover’s polished spires to shame. Wrapped in a shimmering, barely-there gown that hugged your curves, you strode with an air of absolute confidence. Your bombshell persona was magnetic, your hips swaying to the rhythm of the music as the crowd erupted into applause. You gave the camera a cheeky wink and blew a kiss, and Jinx’s brain short-circuited.
“Holy… Who the hell is that?” she muttered, her wide eyes glued to the screen.
A vendor passing by glanced at her. “That’s her. You don’t know? The biggest model in all of Piltover and Zaun. Hell, even Noxus and Ionia are crazy about her.”
Jinx didn’t respond, too transfixed by the image of you flashing across the screen. You were a living firework, a walking explosion of charisma, beauty, and sheer presence. Your bold, flirty persona was a match for her own chaos, and it wasn’t just your looks that had her hooked—it was the energy you carried, the way you owned every moment. From that point on, Jinx was utterly captivated.
Back in her lair, your face became a constant presence. Jinx scavenged every poster, magazine, and billboard she could find that featured you. Her walls were covered in them, glossy images of you smirking, posing, and looking like you owned the world. She couldn’t get enough of you, and it drove her mad in the best way possible.
“Look at her,” she’d whisper to herself, lying on her bed and staring at a magazine cover where you lounged in a shimmering gold corset. “She’s a walking explosion.”
Whenever one of your commercials aired on Piltover’s big screens, Jinx made a point to watch. She’d perch on the rooftops, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as you spoke directly to the camera, your voice sultry and teasing. Sometimes, she’d mimic your lines, laughing to herself at how ridiculous she sounded compared to you.
The first time Jinx saw you in person, she nearly short-circuited. You were in Zaun, of all places, stepping out of a sleek transport at one of the fancier underground clubs. It was rare for someone like you to venture into the depths, but you carried yourself with the same confidence that lit up your photoshoots. Heads turned as you walked through the crowd, a knowing smirk on your lips as if you knew exactly the effect you had on everyone around you. Jinx’s pulse quickened. This was her chance.
She darted through the crowd, weaving between gawking onlookers until she was standing at the bar beside you. Up close, you were even more stunning, your beauty almost overwhelming.
“Didn’t think I’d ever see you in a dump like this,” Jinx drawled, leaning casually against the counter. Her nerves were on fire, but she masked it with her usual cocky grin.
You turned to her, one perfectly arched brow raising as you took her in. Your gaze lingered on her bright blue hair and manic energy, and a small, amused smile played on your lips.
“Maybe I like a little chaos,” you replied, your voice smooth as silk. “And you certainly look like the chaotic type.”
Jinx grinned wider, her confidence surging. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m not just chaos—I’m a full-blown explosion.”
The two of you spent the night trading flirty remarks and playful banter, the tension between you crackling like a lit fuse. Jinx couldn’t believe her luck. You weren’t just a pretty face. But you had a fiery, explosive personality to match. You were bold, unapologetic, and just as dangerous as you were beautiful. At one point, she leaned in close, her lips brushing against your ear as she murmured, “So… what’s it like knowing the whole damn world’s obsessed with you?”
You laughed, the sound low and sultry. “I don’t mind the attention,” you said, turning your head so your lips were almost touching hers. “But right now, I’m more interested in you.” Jinx’s heart nearly stopped.
Back at her lair, were things escalated rather quickly. Jinx couldn’t keep her hands off you, tracing every curve and line of your body like she was memorizing you. Her fingers lingered on your hips, her lips trailing heated kisses along your neck as she whispered breathless praises. “You’re even better than the posters,” she murmured, her voice filled with wonder. “Didn’t think that was possible.”
You teased her with your signature confidence, your voice dripping with flirtation as you pulled her closer. “So you’ve been staring at my posters, huh? What did you think about me?”
Jinx blushed, but she didn’t back down. Instead, she grinned wickedly, her fingers tightening on your waist. “Thought about all the things I’d do if I ever got you alone,” she said, her tone low and rough. “And now, I’m not holding back.”
The tension was electric, charged with the crackling hum of her inventions and the intensity of her gaze on you. She had been teasing you mercilessly all evening, brushing her hands against your skin, dropping flirty remarks that sent heat pooling low in your belly. You could feel the mischief radiating off her as she twirled one of her newest creations in her hand. It was a bright, colorful pleasure device she'd been gushing about for days. Jinx loved experimenting, and tonight, you were her favorite subject.
She grinned at you, her sharp, mischievous grin that made your heart race every time. "Alright, Sugar," she purred, tossing the toy between her hands like it was some casual gadget and not something designed to make you lose your mind. "You trust me, don't ya?"
You raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain your usual flirty composure. "You mean to tell me that thing isn't gonna explode?"
Jinx cackled, tossing her head back. "Not this time, babe! Well, probably not. But hey, if it does, at least we'll go out with a bang!" She winked, and despite your hesitation, you couldn't help but nervously laugh. "You're impossible," you murmured letting her guide you to the mattress piled high with pillows and blankets.
"And you're irresistible," she shot back, pressing you down onto the bed with a surprising gentleness for someone so wild. Her hands were steady as they traced over your skin, her fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake.
She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear. "Let me take care of you, Sugar," she whispered, her voice dripping with sweetness and heat. "Promise I'll make it fun."
The first sensation was the gentle hum of the device she'd created, a soft vibration against your folds that made you arch into her touch. It was colorful and whimsical, much like Jinx herself, with blinking lights and playful patterns painted across its surface. Despite its toy-like appearance, the way it worked against your body was anything but innocent.
Her free hand skimmed over your inner thigh, her touch featherlight and maddeningly slow. The wetness pooling between your legs became impossible to ignore, and Jinx took full advantage, sliding the toy up until it pressed directly against your bundle of nerves. A slick, wet sound began filled the room, the vibrations amplifying the noise as your arousal spread. Jinx froze for a moment before bursting into a fit of laughter. "Oh, look at you," Jinx teased, her eyes bright as she watched your reaction.
"Didn't take much, huh? Bet I could've just touched you, and you'd be melting for me." You tried to retort, but the words caught in your throat as she pressed the device lower, her mischievous grin widening as your body jerked in response.
"Aw, Sugar, don't hold back," she crooned, tilting her head to the side as if studying you. "I like hearin' you. Makes it more fun for me."
Your head fell back, a moan slipping past your lips as she adjusted the settings, the vibrations intensifying. She laughed softly, her free hand stroking your thigh as if to ground you. You buried your face in your hands, mortified but too overwhelmed by the pleasure to stop her. The toy’s vibrations grew stronger, and the obscene wet noises only intensified as she moved it against you, her laughter turning into a low, appreciative hum. “Damn, you sound so good,” she murmured, her tone dipping into something more serious. “Bet I could make you scream just with this.”
Your hips bucked against the toy, your slick arousal coating it and making the sounds louder and wetter with each movement. The lewd squelching only seemed to spur Jinx on, her grin growing wider as she adjusted the settings, sending sharper bursts of pleasure through your body. “Listen to that, Sugar,” she teased, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re a fuckin’ symphony for me. All wet and messy, just how I like it.”
The embarrassment of her words was quickly drowned out by the mounting pleasure, your moans growing louder as the toy worked you closer to the edge. Jinx’s free hand slipped beneath your thigh, lifting your leg to spread you open further.
“Look at you,” she said, her eyes dark with hunger as she watched the toy glisten with your slick. “So damn pretty like this. Could stare at you all day."
Her words made your cheeks flush, though you couldn't focus on embarrassment for long. Every nerve in your body was alight, the sensation of her toy paired with her teasing kisses and caresses driving you to the edge. And then she pulled it away, grinning wickedly at your gasp of frustration. "Not yet, Sugar," she said, clicking her tongue. "I'm not done playin' with you."
She shifted her attention, leaning down to press her lips against your neck. Her kisses were hot and open-mouthed, her teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. You felt her grin against your throat when you whimpered, your hands clutching the sheets beneath you. Her lips found your collarbone, her teeth sinking into the delicate skin to leave another mark.
"Gotta leave my mark," she murmured between kisses, sucking a particularly dark bruise just below your jaw. "Let everyone know you’re mine. My perfect, messy little bombshell.” Her words sent a shiver down your spine, but you hesitated, your modeling career flashing through your mind. "Jinx, I..."
She pulled back, her wide, manic eyes locking with yours. "Aw, don't worry about all that fancy-shmancy stuff," she said, her voice teasing but with an edge of sincerity. "Bet they'll just airbrush it or whatever. C'mon, Sugar, lemme have my fun."
Your protests melted away as she kissed you again, this time harder, deeper, her hands pinning your wrists above your head. The way she looked at you, like you were the most precious thing she'd ever seen, made your resolve crumble. "Fine," you murmured, breathless. "Do your worst."
Her grin was feral. "Oh, babe, you asked for it." Jinx worked her way across your body, leaving a trail of marks in her wake on your neck, your collarbone, and the valley between of your chest. Each one was a testament to her possessiveness, her need to claim you in a way that went beyond words. "You're gonna look so pretty tomorrow," she murmured, her hands and lips everywhere at once. "Walkin' around all marked up, like a damn work of art."
You couldn't even bring yourself to care about the consequences anymore. Her touch was overwhelming, every kiss and bite sending jolts of pleasure through you. She alternated between using her toy and her hands, keeping you teetering on the edge but never quite letting you fall. "Beg for it," she whispered, her voice dark and playful as she hovered above you. "C'mon, Sugar, lemme hear it. Tell me how bad you want me to finish you off."
Your pride wavered, but the need coursing through you won out. "Please, Jinx," you gasped, your voice shaking. "I need you. Please."
She chuckled, clearly satisfied with your quick surrender. "That's more like it," she said, finally pressing the toy back against you. The sensation was overwhelming, and this time, she didn't stop, driving you higher and higher until you finally shattered, a cry escaping your lips as you came undone beneath her. Jinx didn't stop right away, drawing out your pleasure until you were trembling, your body spent and your mind hazy.
When she finally set the toy aside, she crawled up beside you, pulling you into her arms with surprising gentleness. "See?" she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Told ya it'd be fun."
You tilted your head up to meet her gaze, a small smile playing on your lips despite your exhaustion. "Guess I'm stuck with you then," you teased, your flirty nature peeking through even now.
Jinx grinned, her signature chaos in her expression, but there was something softer there, something that tugged at your heart. "Damn right you are. You're mine, babe. Every last gorgeous inch of you." Her fingers danced across your body, tracing the bruises she'd left, her eyes filled with pride as she admired her handiwork. You shivered under her touch, the sensitivity from her earlier teasing still lingering.
"Look at this," she mused, her tone somewhere between awe and glee. "You're a freakin' masterpiece, Sugar. Better than any of those shiny posters they plaster all over Piltover and Zaun."
You couldn't help but laugh softly, the sound weak but genuine. "You think so?"
"I know so," she said firmly, leaning down to nuzzle her face into your neck. "They see the bombshell, the glitz, and the glam, but I get this. I get the real you, all wrecked and perfect just for me." Her words sent warmth spreading through your chest, the vulnerability beneath her usual bravado making your heart ache. You reached up to cup her face, your thumb brushing against her cheek. "You're too good to me, you know that?"
Jinx snorted, pulling back just enough to smirk at you. "Too good? Babe, I'm a menace. But I guess l've got a soft spot for you."
"Lucky me," you teased, letting your fingers trail down to the nape of her neck. She leaned into your touch, her grin softening into something sweeter. "Damn right. You're the luckiest gal in all of Piltover, Zaun, maybe even Noxus." Her playful boasting earned another laugh from you, and she kissed you again, slower this time, her earlier fire giving way to something gentler. The kiss lingered, her lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your chest tighten.
When she finally pulled away, she flopped down beside you, pulling you into her arms as if she couldn't bear to let you go. You rested your head on her chest, listening to the steady thrum of her heartbeat as your body relaxed into hers.
"Y'know," Jinx murmured, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on your back, "I used to look at those big, fancy posters of you and think, ‘She's way too good for someone like me!"
You tilted your head up to look at her, surprised by her confession. "Jinx..."
"But then I thought," she continued, her voice growing steadier, "what's life without a little chaos, right? And lucky for me, you're just as explosive as I am." Her words brought a smile to your lips, and you reached up to brush a strand of blue hair from her face. "Guess we make a pretty good match then, huh?"
She grinned, her manic energy shining through even in this quiet moment. "The best, Sugar." As the adrenaline from earlier began to fade, you let yourself sink into the warmth of her embrace, her steady presence grounding you. Despite the chaos that always seemed to follow Jinx, moments like this reminded you why you'd fallen for her in the first place.
banner: @anitalenia
taglist: @blazemaster4014 @st6rship @axoluxy @1nakitofan @redskye11 @cxcilla @evneedshozierrn @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @raspberry-lava @alduinworldeater11 @m00nd0v3 @idk2anym @emmy21842 @ladey @keysmashsstuff @blkmystery
#arcane#arcane masterlist#jinx x reader#jinx x y/n#jinx x you#jinx smut#jinx season 2#arcane characters#jinx arcane#arcane jinx#arcane smut#arcane x reader#arcane fanfic#arcane fic#arcane fluff#model! reader
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THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (01)
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MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader
Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.
Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.
Word Count: 4.2k
Aliyah's Notes: this is my first series on here so go easy on me (#adele) pls + some things are not going to be obx canon ... at least some of yall are warned. anyw im so excited for this cause lord knows the amount of time ive wanted to make a fake dating fic!!!!!!! anyw i hope you all will enjoy this i had so much writing the first chapter
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The clatter of high heels against the marble floor echoed in perfect sync with the ticking of your watch. Every step was deliberate, poised—just like your life had to be. Perfection, it seemed, was not a choice but a requirement for survival.
You adjusted your sunglasses, your gaze skimming over the glamorous expanse of the fashion agency's lobby. People buzzed around you like bees in a hive, their worlds spinning, fueled by the weight of names, status, and flawless images. You smiled politely at the receptionist, offering a nod, though your mind was miles away.
To the outside world, your life was golden. The covers of magazines, the invitations to high-society events, the million-dollar deals with luxury brands—it was a fantasy that others could only dream of. It was your dream some time ago, too.
But today, your reality felt like walking on the edge of a tightrope, the safety net fraying below you.
Your phone vibrated in your purse, interrupting your thoughts. You fished it out, your pulse quickening when you saw the text from your lawyer. Three words that sent a chill through your carefully constructed façade.
"We need to talk."
Your heart sank. The issue of your visa had been hanging over your head like a storm cloud for months now, growing darker by the day. You’d known this was coming, but knowing and confronting it were two different beasts.
Fame didn’t shield you from the cold bureaucracy of citizenship laws, and your time was running out. One misstep, one delay, and your golden empire could crumble. In a matter of months, you could be deported, left behind by the very country that had built you up.
With a deep breath, you silenced your phone and slid it back into your purse. This wasn’t something you could dwell on right now, not in public. Your expression remained serene, even though your mind was anything but. You had a shoot in an hour, a charity gala that evening, and at some point, you had to meet with the lawyer to discuss "options"—a word that had started to feel more like a trap than a solution.
As you exited the building, the cool breeze caught your hair, the city unfolding before you like a glittering stage. New York City. You looked out at the streets, the people, the life you fought so hard to build. The car pulled up to the curb, and you climbed inside. On your way to your lawyer.
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You stepped into the law office, the familiar scent of polished wood and stale coffee wrapping around you like a tight band.
"Ms. Y/L/N, good afternoon," Nicolas Ramirez, your lawyer, greeted you, standing behind his desk. His expression was composed, but you knew him well enough by now to spot the unease in his eyes.
"Hi," you softly smiled at him. Your heels clicked softly on the floor as you sat down, crossing your legs tightly, as if holding yourself together. "Let’s just get straight to it, okay? How bad is it?"
Nico sighed, adjusting his glasses. "Your visa expires in less than three months."
You felt your stomach twist, your worst fear inching closer to reality. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "And what about the appeals? The extensions?"
"We’ve exhausted every possible option—work visas, artist visas, even humanitarian grounds. Immigration laws are tightening, and without a permanent solution like citizenship or residency, you’ll be forced to leave the country."
"Leave?" Your voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the full weight of the nightmare you’d been living with.
Leave? Go back there?
The country you had fought so hard to escape. The country where your childhood had been marked by suffocating poverty, where your parents had already planned your marriage before you even turned 15. Where your dreams had been a distant, impossible hope until that one person changed your life forever.
You felt your throat tighten. You couldn’t go back.
Nico’s gaze softened slightly, his voice gentle but firm. "I know what this means for you. I know how difficult—"
"You don’t know," you cut him off, your voice sharper than you intended. "You… You don’t know—I can’t go back there, Nico. I just… I can’t."
He nodded, giving you a moment of silence to compose yourself, but the pressure in your chest only grew. You took a deep breath, trying to keep the panic at bay.
"So what now?" you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady. "Is this it? Am I out of options?"
"Well… There’s one option we haven’t explored yet." his tone was cautious, like he knew what he was about to say would open a new can of worms.
You furrowed your brow. "What?"
"Marriage."
The word hung in the air, thick and heavy. You blinked, unable to comprehend at first. "Marriage?" you repeated, as if saying it aloud would make the absurdity of it clear.
"It’s one of the few legal paths left," he explained, leaning forward slightly. "Marriage to a U.S. citizen could secure your green card and, eventually, permanent residency. It’s a legitimate route—many people in similar situations have done it."
You sat back in your chair, the tension in your body coiling tighter. The thought of marriage, of attaching yourself to someone you barely knew for the sake of staying in the country, made your skin crawl. You had already sacrificed so much for your freedom, for your career. And now this?
"You’re telling me the only way to stay here is to marry someone I don’t even love? Just to avoid being sent back to a country I don’t belong in anymore?"
"Not necessarily," Nicolas said, his tone measured. "It wouldn’t have to be a traditional marriage. Think of it as a business arrangement. It’s a legal partnership—nothing more. And it could save your career, your life here."
You crossed your arms tightly, your mind racing. Marriage. It was a word that had haunted you ever since your parents had tried to force you into it as a teenager. Back then, it was their way of controlling you, of keeping you bound to a life you didn’t want. Now, it felt like the universe was throwing the same chains back at you, just in a different form.
"I’ve compiled a list of potential candidates," Arjun continued, sliding a piece of paper across the desk toward you. "People who might be open to an arrangement like this. Athletes, businesspeople—individuals who might benefit from a similar deal."
You glanced at the paper but didn’t pick it up. The names blurred in front of your eyes. This wasn’t how your life was supposed to go. You’d already lost your family, fought tooth and nail to get out of your country and build something for yourself in the U.S. And now you were at risk of losing everything—again.
"I don’t know if I can do this, Nico," you said quietly, shaking your head. "I’ve already sacrificed so much. My family… I gave up everything to be here. And now you’re telling me I have to give up even more?"
"I’m not telling you that you have to do anything," he replied, his voice calm but firm. "I’m saying this is an option. One that could keep you here, legally. But the decision is yours. I’m just laying out the possibilities."
You swallowed the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.
"I can’t go back there," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. "I’ve worked too hard to get here. I can’t lose everything."
He nodded slowly. "Then maybe it’s time to consider unconventional options."
You finally picked up the paper, scanning the names but not really seeing them. Your heart was racing, your mind spinning with a thousand thoughts. Marriage. It felt like a trap, just like it had back then. But maybe—just maybe—it was the only way to keep your future intact.
"I’ll think about it," you said, standing up and smoothing the front of your dress. "But I’m not making any promises."
"Of course," he said, standing as well. "Just let me know. We’re running out of time, but I’ll support whatever decision you make."
You nodded curtly, turning toward the door. As you stepped out into the cool city air, your chest tightened with the weight of everything you stood to lose. The lights of New York City flickered ahead of you, just out of reach, as though the life you’d built here could vanish at any moment.
And for the first time in a long time, you felt truly afraid.
Your phone buzzed, dragging you out of your spiraling thoughts. You fished it out of your purse, heart skipping a beat when you saw the name: Nina. Your agent.
With a shaky exhale, you answered. “Nina, hi.”
“Hey, babe!” Nina’s voice was all cheer, a stark contrast to the storm inside you. “So, I have amazing news! Guess who just got major campaign offers coming in? You! Chanel, Loewe, and oh my God, don’t even get me started on Louis Vuitton. The year starts beautifully for you!”
You should’ve felt ecstatic, but instead, the words passed over you like an echo. All you could think of was the countdown Nico had set in motion: three months. Three months before everything you’d built here would be taken away from you.
“That’s… amazing, Nina,” you managed, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Really amazing. Thank you so much.”
“Are you okay? You don’t sound like your sunshine-self.” Nina’s voice softened, concern creeping in. “What’s going on?”
There was a pause. Nina had been there through all your ups and downs, from your rookie days as a model to your rise in the industry. But the immigration issues, the fear of being sent back to a life you couldn’t return to—that was something neither of you could control.
“Three months?” she repeated, her voice going higher. “Oh my God—what the fuck? I thought… I thought you had more time.”
“So did I.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Nina, I don’t know what to do. I’ve called Nico and he tried everything—extensions, appeals—but the laws are tightening, and he said there’s only one real option left.”
There was a brief silence before she asked, “What option?”
You bit your lip. “Marriage. Nico says I could marry someone for a green card.”
“Marriage?” Nina’s voice came out in a shocked squeak. “Like a fake marriage? Babe, are you serious?”
“I don’t know!” you burst out, frustration and fear colliding. “I don’t know what to do! I can’t go back there. I can’t. My parents… My parents already wrote me off as dead, and if I go back, I’m stuck in a place I spent my entire life trying to escape.”
Her voice softened. “I know, honey, I know… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound—God, I can’t imagine how scary this is for you.”
You took a shaky breath, grateful for her understanding. Nina wasn’t just your manager—she was one of the few people who you actually close to. She was a 34 years old American-Filipina woman. You trusted her with your life.
“Okay,” Nina said, her voice more focused now. “Okay, now listen. We’ll figure this out. I know Nicolas wouldn’t suggest something like this unless it was a real option. Do you trust him?”
You sighed. “Yeah. I do. But the idea of marrying someone just to stay… it feels like another version of what my parents wanted for me. Like I’m back in that same time of my life.”
“I get it. But this isn’t like that. You’re in control this time,” Nina said. “If this is what you need to stay here, it’s not about love or being owned by someone.”
You nodded to yourself, trying to absorb her words. “Well, um, Nico gave me a list of potential candidates—people who might be willing to make an arrangement. You’ll never guess who’s on it, though.”
“Who? Shawn Mendes? Harry Styles? Tom Holland—”
“Rafe Cameron,” you said, cutting her off. “The basketball play—”
“Yeah, I know who that man is, Y/N. His reputation is a total mess right now. It’s not surprising for him to be on that list.”
“Exactly,” you muttered. “It’s a perfect business arrangement for him, too. He needs a way to look respectable again, and I need to stay in the country.”
“So, you’re actually considering this?”
You leaned against a streetlamp, staring at the city around you. “I don’t know. Maybe? It just feels wrong. Like I’m giving up a part of myself.”
“As nicely as this can be said, you are being dramatic here, babe.” Nina sighed softly. “Look, I’m not going to push you either way, okay? But I do think you need to look at it from a different angle. You’re not giving up on yourself. You’re doing what you need to do to stay here, to keep fighting for your career and your future. And Rafe—or whoever you’ll end up marrying—is not your parents. He’s not going to control you or he’ll get slapped.”
You closed your eyes, trying to let her words sink in. She was right—you were in control now. This wasn’t the same as being forced into a marriage you didn’t want. This was about survival. About keeping your life in the U.S. intact.
"Yeah… I guess you’re right," you said softly, feeling some of the tension release from your shoulders. "I just need time to think."
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TWO WEEKS LATER.
The soft glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting warm light across your living room. After two relentless weeks of back-to-back fashion shoots, campaign meetings, and gala appearances, you had finally found a moment of peace. You curled up on the plush sofa, sinking into its embrace as the hum of the city outside became a distant murmur. The oversized, loose pajamas you wore were a far cry from the designer gowns and couture you’d been draped in recently, but they were yours—soft, comforting, and familiar. Your hair was twisted into a lazy bun under a satin bonnet.
You exhaled a sigh of relief, finally feeling the weight of exhaustion slip from your shoulders as you closed your eyes.
Buzz. Buzz.
The sound of your phone vibrating on the coffee table pulled you from the calm. You groaned softly, reaching for it with one hand, expecting to see another notification about a meeting or event. Instead, it was a message from Nicolas.
“Any thoughts on who you're going to marry? We need to move quickly if we want to ensure everything goes through in time.”
The familiar weight of the situation you’d been trying to avoid crept back into your chest. Two weeks had passed since your lawyer had first laid out the reality of your visa situation. In those weeks, you'd thrown yourself into work, hoping the constant flurry of activity would drown out the anxiety. But now, in the quiet of your home, the decision loomed large again.
You typed back, hesitating for a moment before hitting send.
"I haven’t decided yet."
A few seconds later, the reply came through.
"We need to discuss this in person. Can you come to my office today?"
You frowned, your eyes darting around the cozy room, not quite ready to leave your home.
"How about you come here instead?" you typed. "It’s been a long week, and I’d rather talk in private."
There was a pause before the three dots appeared, and then the message followed.
"Sure. I’ll be there in about an hour."
You put your phone down and leaned back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling. This wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have, but it was necessary. Time was running out, and you knew you had to face it—whether you wanted to or not.
An hour passed in a blur, and soon enough, you heard the knock at your door. You padded across the room in your socks, your oversized pajama pants swishing softly as you walked. Opening the door, you found Nicolas standing there, looking as composed as ever in his tailored suit.
“Come in,” you said with a smile, stepping aside to let him in.
Nicolas entered, his eyes scanning the room before they landed on you. "You look... relaxed."
You gave a soft chuckle, gesturing to your pajamas. “Don’t mock the pj’s until you’ve tried them.”
He smiled slightly, but there was a hint of emergency in his expression as he took a seat in the armchair across from you. “I know you’ve had a lot on your plate lately, but we really need to make a decision.”
You nodded, sitting back down on the couch, hugging a pillow to your chest. “I know… I’ve just been avoiding it.”
“And I noticed,” he said, pulling out a folder from his briefcase. “But with the visa expiration approaching, we don’t have much time. We need to find someone—someone who understands the situation and won’t make things harder.”
You bit your lip, holding a smile, glancing at the folder in his hands. “You bought the list?”
He nodded, and handed it over, and you flipped through the names, recognizing some immediately. Athletes, businessmen, even a couple of actors/singers. And then there was Rafe Cameron, his name standing out like a bold headline.
“I’ve looked at these,” you said quietly. “I just… I don’t know who to choose. None of ‘em feel right.”
Nico leaned forward. “It's not about right or wrong. It’s about who can offer the least amount of personal complications and help you secure your residency. Rafe Cameron, for instance—he’s someone who could benefit from this arrangement as much as you. His reputation needs mending, and this could be a mutually beneficial situation.”
You stared at Rafe’s name, the memories of seeing his name in the news about how much of a womanizer he was… Could you really tie yourself to someone like him in a fake marriage?
“Alright, but I need you to help me decide,” you admitted, looking up at him.
He nodded, his expression understanding. “Of course, that’s why I’m here. Let’s break it down together and figure out who makes the most sense, not just legally but for your peace of mind.”
Nicolas opened his briefcase again, pulling out more detailed files on the potential candidates. He laid them out neatly on the coffee table, each name with a stack of information—financial records, personal histories, public perceptions. It was all very businesslike.
You leaned forward, looking at the pages in front of you. Each one represented a major decision, a shift in your life you weren’t entirely ready to accept, but you knew you didn’t have much of a choice.
“Let’s start with the most practical options,” he said, sliding the file on Rafe Cameron toward you. “I know his name has come up before. He’s wealthy, influential, and… well, let’s be honest, he could use a boost to his public image right now. It’s a good match on paper.”
You stared at Rafe’s name again, tapping the edge of the file with your finger. “Yeah, but he’s also a bit of a mess, isn’t he? I mean, the media paints him as this… whore, and his personal life is always talked about. What if that blows back on me?”
Nicolas raised a brow. “That’s something to consider, but you also have to think of the benefits. His public image might not be very clean, but he’s powerful. Marrying him would put you in a stable position, and if it’s a business arrangement, his private affairs don’t have to concern you.”
You exhaled slowly, still feeling uneasy. Rafe Cameron was trouble, and you knew it. But at the same time, trouble might be exactly what could make this work—for both of you.
“What about the others?” you asked, flipping through the files. “There has to be someone who’s… less complicated.”
“Well,” he said, tapping another file. “there’s Owen Turner. He’s a succesful tech entrepeneur, keeps a low profile. No scandals, no messy reputation. He’s reliable, but you’ll have to approach this differently. He’s more private, less likely to want his personal life on display.”
“And boring—plus, he seems like the type of white guy to want a traditional wife. Like he would expect me to cook for him every night… and he has an ugly name.”
“Owen won’t be expecting home-cooked meals, Y/N. He’s a tech guy; he probably lives on energy drinks and instant ramen,” Nico pointed out, trying to steer you back to the serious topic. “But if we position it as a legal arrangement, he could see the value in it.”
You sighed, leaning back on the chair. “Okay, maybe Owen is the safer options. But can you imagine our wedding announcement? ‘Succesful Tech Entrepeneur Married Famous Model: They Share a Love for Cats and Instant Noodle.’”
Nico shook his head, trying not to smile. “Focus, please. This is a serious matter.”
“Right, right, sorry��” you said, wavering your hand dismissively. “But, what do you think about Rafe?”
“Rafe Cameron is the most straightforward option,” he said, his tone now more measured. “He’s already in the public eye, which means there won’t be as much of a shock if you’re suddenly married. Plus, his need for good press aligns with your need for stability.”
“And personally?”
He smiled softly, a rare gesture from him. “Personally, I think you should go with the person you think you can manage.”
You nodded, appreciating his honesty. Staring at the stack of papers in front of you, Rafe Cameron’s name glaring up at you from the top of the list. Every name on the list had its pros and cons, but something about Rafe’s file felt different. Maybe it was the intensity of his media coverage, the scandals, or the way he dominated the headlines for all the wrong reasons. But as much as you hesitated, his name kept pulling you back.
“I know his reputation isn't spotless,” Nico said, sensing your hesitation, “but in this situation, a clean reputation isn’t the priority. You need someone powerful, someone with enough influence to make this arrangement stick without getting tangled up in emotional complications.”
You nodded, again.”But I don’t know if I can handle all the baggage that comes with Rafe Cameron. His public image is a trainwreck. Wouldn’t that only complicate things more?”
Nico leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “Possibly. But think of it this way: his personal life is already so chaotic that a stable, respectable marriage might be exactly what he needs to repair his image. And that’s where you come in. You’d be helping each other.”
Your eyes dropped back down to his file. "Do you think he'd even agree to something like this?"
Nico chuckled softly. “If there’s one thing I know about men like Rafe Cameron, it’s that they understand deals. His reputation is hanging by a thread, and a marriage to someone like you—someone with a pristine public image—could be the ticket to restoring his credibility. It’s a win-win, really.”
You considered Nico’s words. He was right. Rafe had everything to gain from a marriage of convenience, just like you. And while his scandals were messy, they didn’t define him entirely. He was still an elite athlete, one of the best in the game, and with the right PR strategy, you could both come out looking better.
But the thought of marrying someone like him—a notorious playboy with a history of messy breakups—made your stomach churn.
“You know,” Nico continued, “if this were just about your visa, we’d be having a different conversation. But this is about your entire future. Your career, your freedom to stay here, everything you’ve built. I’m not saying it’s an easy choice, but it’s one worth considering.”
You sighed, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. "What happens if it falls apart? What if things with Rafe go wrong?"
"That’s why we’ll draft a contract," Nico reassured you. "This won’t be a traditional marriage, Y/N. You’ll both have clear boundaries, and legally, we’ll protect your interests. If things go south, you’ll be covered."
You stared at the file a little longer, then closed your eyes.Rafe Cameron. He was cocky, possessive, and reckless—everything you usually avoided. But maybe that was the key. You wouldn’t have to worry about him trying to control you or make this anything more than a business transaction.
It would be messy. It would be complicated. But it would also keep you here, in the country you’d fought so hard to call home. And maybe, just maybe, it would be the solution you both needed.
“Okay,” you said softly, your decision finally settling. “I’ll do it.”
Nico’s eyebrows shot up, a little surprised at how quickly you’d made up your mind. “You’re sure?”
“No,” you admitted with a weak smile. “But I think this is the best option. I’ll marry Rafe Cameron.”
Nico nodded, closing the folder with a satisfied smile. “Good. I’ll set up a meeting with him. We’ll get the ball rolling.”
Oh God, you were going to marry Rafe Cameron…
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chapter two
#aliyahs works#the contracted heart#rafe cameron#obx#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron smut#rafe x reader#rafe cameron imagine#outer banks#rafe fanfiction#rafe obx#rafe cameron fluff#rafe outer banks#outerbanks rafe#rafe smut#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x female reader#obx rafe cameron#model!reader
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Bettie Page
#Bettie page#homage#pin up girl#pin up#vintage#retro#pin up model#deceased#greyscale#arte#black and white#b&w#noir et blanc#mujer#blanco y negro#antique
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(My work project is soooo close to being done! Finally 😭)
#attention slvt#attention wh0r3#give me attention#daddy's good girl#daddy’s babygirl#daddy’s wh0re#daddy's slvt#needy wh0re#needy slvt#needy princess#needy pussy#wet and needy#wet pu$$y#free use doll#free use slvt#k!nky girl#k!nky thoughts#bd/sm kink#bd/sm community#bd/sm blog#h0rnyposting#h0rnygirls#spicy newds#spicy pics#spicy creator#n00d model#daily newds#my pics
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we see the PRO HERO BAKUGO OBSSESSED IN AN INTERVIEW, wut if we see the media finally seen a glimpse of his wife and fawning over them because they are really gorgeous. and finnaly having an interview with them two together ^^
katsuki’s personal life had always been a hot topic of discussion for the media.
he was just so mysterious, whenever a small clip or photo of you two holding hands on an outing popped online it'd trend for the week among not only his fandom, but others.
more accurately, they wanted to know who the gorgeous girl was.
you, who always looked candid. your off guards looking planned as even in your worst moment, you still looked your best.
people who speculated you were a small model, a makeup ambassador, an idol? they didn't know, all they did was that you were way too gorgeous to just be a civilian.
so imagine everyone's surprise when you and him have an interview together, holding hands over the small distance between the two couches.
how they adored your smile, the way you seemed to glow even under the unflattering fluorescent lights.
how they could notice a lot of katsuki's influence in your speech, you covering your mouth for the nth time that interview, cursing almost more than katsuki.
how he looked at you. how you looked at him, how you both still seemed to be flustered by each other even though you'd been dating for years.
you left, hand in hand, then finally noticing the huge ring on your finger.
it was now your turn to be surprised, as the public had grown to adore you. brands, agencies, sponsors all calling and offering sums of money you couldn't count just for an endorsement.
katsuki, who could only laugh as the first one you accepted was one modeling his merch.
#katsuki dating a model is canon to me actually#lilac asks❤︎︎#bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo#bakugo x y/n#bakugo katuski#bakugo x you#bakugo fluff#katsuki x you#bakugo drabble#mha x you#bakugo oneshot#mha bakugou#mha drabbles#mha oneshot#mha x reader
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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤPRADA FW25 * MATT STURNIOLO * INSTAGRAM
SUMMARY :: where Y/N goes to the Prada FW25 show with the triplets and enjoy Milan with her boyfriend, Matt.
FEATURING Matt Sturniolo x prada model!reader REQUESTED? no.
WARNINGS :: none.
AUTHOR'S NOTE :: that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
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liked by sturniolofan1, matthew.sturniolo, ynfan72 and 1,528 others
people Supermodel Y/N L/N spotted today in Milan!
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username wait you're lying??? she's actually there???
username IS SHE GOING TO THE PRADA SHOW OMG PLS
username lmaoooooo i see you hiding in the likes matt
username it’s so cute that he's always following her activities 🥹🥹
username she's so freaking gorgeous how's that possible???
username PRADA GIRL IN MILAN?? SHES SO MOTHER RN
username nah bc how can someone look this good just walking???
username I so hope that she comes back to the runways on prada's next woman's show 😔
username I'm obsessed omg omg omg
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liked by lilamoss, matthew.sturniolo, sturniolo.triplets and 11,628 others
ynsinstagram milano, your queen is here 🇮🇹🤌🏻
tagged: matthew.sturniolo
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username um so like you’re actually perfect
username ughhhhh milan is so beautiful 😭
→ username ikr?? I dream of going there someday
username my jaw dropped but I'm happy about it
matthew.sturniolo love the shirt
→ ynsinstagram really??? it's my face in there 🥺
⤷ matthew.sturniolo actually I was talking about MY face in there
⤷ username I LOVE THEM LMAO 😭😭
username NO WAY, IS THAT REALLY MATT????
→ username OBVIOUSLY ???? the guy follow his girl everywhere 😭
⤷ username it's so crazy to think that he's in Italy right now
username matt flew to MILAN for his girl?? boyfriend of the year award goes to him fr
username you're everything mama, I adore you etc etc, but also like... MATT IS IN MILAN?? AS IN MY CITY???
username THIS IS Y/N'S WORLD AND WE'RE JUST LIVING IN IT
christophersturniolo 🏰🤌🏻🥧😱
→ ynsinstagram I agree, king 🙌🏻
username are nick and chris also there?
→ username I don't think they're (?)
→ username probably... this week is gonna happen the prada FW25 show, maybe she's in Milan to go there? her being the face of prada and all
⤷ username this actually makes super sense
username where Y/N is, fashion is following 🙌🏻
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liked by sturniolo.triplets, ynsinstagram, prada and 8,528 others
matthew.sturniolo this is what happens when you date a supermodel, they make you look cool by association
tagged: ynsinstagram
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username damn god really out here choosing favorites
username he loves her your honour
username matt's milan era is just him third-wheeling Y/N and the camera
→ username FRRR!!! that girl looks amazing in every picture 😭😭
christophersturniolo bro really said I'm a prada boy now
→ ynsinstagram and he's slaying it 💅🏻
username sir, how does it feel to be living half of the world's dream?
→ matthew.sturniolo unreal
username nah bc prada matt is actually gonna break the internet rn
ynsinstagram you're cooler 🫵🏻🤍
→ matthew.sturniolo impossible
username this is the most unexpected collab but I'm OBSESSED
username HE LOOKS SO GOOD IN PRADA LIKE HELLO????
nicolassturniolo how do you pull a supermodel and still look like you can't spell milan?
→ matthew.sturniolo I think you mixed the triplet
⤷ christophersturniolo what's that supposed to mean???
username I'm SO sure that Y/N influenced matt 100% to buy prada stuff
username and now everyone say THANK YOU Y/N 🙏🏻
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gettyimages MILAN, ITALY - 19TH JANUARY. The Sturniolo's arrive at the Prada fashion show during Milan Menswear Fall/Winter 2025.
tagged: sturniolo.triplets
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username WHAT THE FUCK
username what do you mean they're aLL IN THAT PRADA SHOW???? am I dreaming?
username omg omg omg omg shut up right now this is EVERYTHING
username PRADA KINGS 🙏🏻🙏🏻
→ username Y/N being their prada queen 🙏🏻
username I'm so so proud of them 😭
username fuck matt is looking amazing in all black 🫦🫦
username WHERE’S Y/N??????
→ matthew.sturniolo that's a good question
⤷ username LMAO 😭 noticed by matt being ironic
username can't wait to see them in the front row
username weren't they in boston just yesterday? 😭😭 things happen so fast omg
username they're the moment guys ✋🏻✋🏻
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ynsinstagram MILANO IS PRADA @/prada
tagged: prada
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username fashion princess is living the dream so happy for her 😭🙏🏻
username mommy- sorry... mommy- sorry... MOTHER
kendalljenner you are GLOWING 😍
→ ynsinstagram love you, ken 🤍
username THE FACE OF PRADA ARRIVES, EVERYONE ELSE CAN GO HOME
prada prettiest
→ ynsinstagram 🖤
username she is literally making the streets of milan her runway rn
username stop, you're making me wish that she comes back to the runways 😭😭
matthew.sturniolo nah bc how does someone look THIS good just stepping out of a car?? unreal
nicolassturniolo stop drooling
username prada is lucky to even exist while Y/N is wearing it tbh
bellahadid it's giving movie from the 50s
→ ynsinstagram STOP I LOVE THIS
username icon of the century
username here, take my whole house if you want
username 💳💳💳
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prada Y/N L/N and the Sturniolo Triplets attend the Prada FW25 Menswear Show in Milan, at the Fondazione Prada's Deposito.
tagged: ynsinstagram, sturniolo.triplets
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username nick, chris, and matt are living every fan's dream rn just casually at PRADA with Y/N
→ username idk who I want to be tbh 😫
username ughh they look so powerful wtf
username the fact that prada is literally being carried by THEM rn 😫😫
username Y/N's outfit is literally what dreams are made of
→ username ikr??? so angel coded
username can we talk about how matt's whole outfit is lowkey giving runway vibes?? boyfriend is LEVELING UP
→ username and for that we say THANK YOU Y/N 🙌🏻
username Y/N's accessories alone probably cost more than my whole apartment but like... worth it 😃
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ynsinstagram cause i love to love, to love, to love you 🤍
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matthew.sturniolo that guy's pretty handsome
→ ynsinstagram very :) and an amazing photographer too
⤷ matthew.sturniolo with a muse like you, I have no doubts
⤷ username PARENTS ARE FLIRTING ‼️
username MY ROMAN EMPIRE
username how can you both be so damn hot?!
username they're the IT couple
username the way she's casually flexing that matt does her cartier for her like we're not all crying rn 😭
username he's so boyfriend material fuck 😭
nicolassturniolo cool pics and all, but where's my invite to the pasta tho?
→ ynsinstagram as if you didn't obligated us to bring some for you
⤷ username LMAO 😭😭 this is so nick coded
username EVERYONE PAUSE
username I want what these bitches have ;(
username she's truly one of the most beautiful women i've ever seen 😭
username omg he was taking pics of her??
→ ynsinstagram yes 😁
→ matthew.sturniolo always!
⤷ username WTF- HIIIII
⤷ username YOU'RE BOTH SO CUTE STOP
username why am I crying in the club rn
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matthew.sturniolo pizza in italy just hits different
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username are yall breathing ok??
→ username no, actually going to the hospital rn
username bro went from youtube videos in sweatshirts to prada boy real quick
→ username AND I'M SO HERE FOR ITTTT
→ username don't you dare insult his sweatshirts 😔😔
nicolassturniolo matt driving in italy? 😱😱😱
→ matthew.sturniolo I can actually drive everywhere when I have a license, yk?
⤷ username clocked out 😭
username Y/N give me a chance pls pls pls
username fourth pic is peak boyfriendism 😭
username sooooooo dreamy omg I need this
username luckiest boy on the planet
→ ynsinstagram luckiest girl*
⤷ matthew.sturniolo nah, I win on that note, no one is luckier than me
⤷ username whipped
ynsinstagram 🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕
→ matthew.sturniolo 🍕🍕🍕🍕
⤷ username best conversation ever
username I NEED IT I NEED IT
username matt's prada era AND his soft boyfriend era at the same time???
→ username and we all say THANK YOU Y/N 🙌🏻🙌🏻
tarayummyy every time you post her, my heart grows three sizes ;((( stop being so perfect
→ username we love a supportive bestie 😔
ynsinstagram italy has my heart and so do you, mio amato 🤍
→ matthew.sturniolo I promise I'm keeping it safe here 🖤
⤷ username I'm gonna throw up- THIS IS SO CUTE SHUT THE FUCK UP
username Y/N taking a picture of matt taking a picture of her 🙏🏻🙏🏻
© vanteguccir
#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo imagine#matt stuniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo fanfiction#matt sturniolo fic#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo instagram#matt sturniolo oneshot#matt sturniolo au#matthew bernard sturniolo#matthew sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo x yn#matt sturniolo x y/n#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo x reader fanfic#matt sturniolo x reader fluff#model!reader#prada#sturniolo#sturniolo triplets x reader#matt sturniolo x reader instagram#italy#matt sturniolo x famous reader
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aaron x supermodel reader?? 👀👀
Mystery man | [A.H]
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Supermodel!reader | WC: 1.9k | CW: Fluff, reader is wearing lingerie in a picture at one point
The relentless flashes of cameras were nearly blinding as the black town car came to a halt in front of the venue. You took a moment to steady yourself, exhaling softly before stepping out into the chaos. The city was alive tonight, the buzz of Paris Fashion Week crackling in the evening air like electricity as journalists, media outlets, paparazzi's, and so on had gathered around the velvet ropes to the red carpet.
As you swung one long leg out of the car, the delicate fabric of your gown cascaded in shimmering ripples around you. The dress was a masterpiece—silk that seemed to flow like water, catching the thousand lights with every movement. Diamond earrings glinted against your skin, and your heels—custom-designed, of course—clicked against the cobblestones as you straightened to your full height.
The crowd outside erupted into a frenzy the moment they spotted you, shouting your name in a symphony of accents, the occasional “over here!” cutting through the noise. You didn’t flinch, didn’t falter; you were used to this. It was your stage, and you owned it.
But tonight wasn’t just about you.
You turned, holding out a hand, and watched as he stepped out of the car.
Aaron Hotchner.
Even in the middle of the whirlwind, he exuded a calm authority that made heads turn. The black suit he wore was impeccably tailored, the kind of understated elegance that spoke volumes without trying too hard. You had insisted on having the designer of your attire make something for him too—for the occasion you'd shrugged.
His dark eyes scanned the crowd, not with the excitement of someone dazzled by the spectacle, but with the sharp awareness of a man—an agent—who didn’t miss a thing.
For a moment, you wondered what he was thinking. If he felt out of place or if he was regretting saying yes to your impulsive invitation. But when his gaze shifted to you, the faintest trace of a smile curved his lips, and any doubt disappeared.
You reached for his hand, and when his fingers closed around yours, the crowd’s focus shifted instantly.
“Who is that?”
“Is that her date?”
“Oh my God, he’s hot!”
“Someone get a name!”
The whispers grew louder as the two of you began walking toward the beginning of the carpet. Hotch’s presence next to you was a contrast to your usual presence at these events. Normally you would've given the cameras a little pre-show, before heading inside to get dressed in the collection of the evening.
And where most people—even celebrities—might have preened for the cameras in the slowest way possible, he simply carried himself with confidence, his free hand brushing against the edge of his jacket.
When another wave of flashes erupted, he leaned in closer. “This is... different,” he murmured, his voice so low you could feel it more than hear it.
You glanced up at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “Different good or different bad?”
He gave you a look—half exasperated, half amused. “Let’s just say I’m starting to understand why you always come home exhausted after these things.”
Your laugh turned brighter, drawing even more attention from the photographers. “Welcome to my world, Agent Hotchner.”
The questions from the crowd grew more pointed. Someone yelled, “Are you two together?” while another voice called out, “Is this your boyfriend?”
Aaron’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over yours as if to steady you both. You could feel his discomfort at the attention, but he didn’t let it show outwardly.
As you approached the gilded double doors of the venue, you slowed, tilting your head toward him. “They’ll figure out who you are by tomorrow,” you said softly with a teasing tone.
He raised a brow. “Is that a warning?”
“More like a promise.” You smiled, squeezing his hand before leading him inside.
Once the heavy doors shut behind you, the noise from outside faded into a muffled hum. Aaron exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he looked around the space.
“Now that,” he said, meeting your gaze, “was intense.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, stepping closer to fix his tie, which had shifted slightly during the commotion. “And it’s only the beginning.”
The sun had barely begun to stream through the blinds of Garcia’s apartment, casting a soft, golden hue across her kitchen. She hummed quietly to herself, a melody she’d picked up from the latest show she had managed to binge between cases, as she went about her morning ritual.
Her bright pink robe swished around her as she moved. Everything in her kitchen had just as much personality as her; from the gleaming chrome appliances to the rainbow of coffee pods stacked neatly by her machine.
She hit the button for her usual shot of espresso, the familiar whirring sound filling the room as she reached for her favorite mug—a ceramic cat face with ears that doubled as handles and then turned to her fridge to gather all the fixings.
Her TV, mounted in the corner of her living room and perpetually tuned to a morning show, prattled on in the background. It was her morning white noise, the kind of chatter she half-listened to while focusing on more important things, like perfecting her froth-to-espresso ratio.
“...Paris Fashion Week turned heads last night with more than just couture,” the announcer’s voice chimed, accompanied by upbeat music. “A surprise appearance by a supermodel and her mysterious companion has everyone talking this morning.”
Garcia paused mid-pour, her interest piqued. Her gaze flicked to the screen, where a paparazzi photo filled the frame.
She squinted.
The image showed a stunning figure draped in a flowing gown, her hand firmly clasped in a man’s. His face wasn’t entirely visible, but his strong profile and familiar suit cut made Garcia gasp.
“No. Freaking. Way,” she whispered, her coffee momentarily forgotten.
The announcer continued, the screen now displaying the bold headline:
Supermodel Spotted With Mystery Man at Paris Fashion Week!
The next photo zoomed in on the man’s face, his stoic expression unmistakable.
“Oh my God,” Garcia said louder, her hand flying to her mouth. “That’s Hotch!”
The caption beneath the image confirmed it, sending her brain into overdrive: Mystery Man Identified as Aaron Hotchner, FBI Unit Chief.
Her half-made latte was abandoned on the counter as she scrambled for her phone. “This is not happening. This is not happening,” she muttered, her fingers flying over the screen until she found the contact she needed.
The phone barely rang before Derek Morgan’s voice came through, groggy and unamused. “Garcia, it’s not even eight, Hotch is away there's no need to wake up this ear—”
“Did you see it?” she blurted, cutting him off.
“See what?”
“Our boss!” she shrieked, pacing the length of her kitchen. “Hotch! He was at Paris Fashion Week! Holding hands with a supermodel! It’s on every channel!”
There was a pause, followed by Morgan’s skeptical laugh. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Hotch? Our Hotch?”
“Yes, our Hotch! The Aaron Hotchner! He’s on TV right now looking like James Bond at a runway show!”
Another pause, and then Morgan’s full-throated laugh rumbled through the line. “This I gotta see. Send me the link.”
Garcia was already snapping a picture of the TV screen, muttering under her breath. “I can’t believe this. He’s going to walk into work on Monday like nothing happened. Nothing happened!”
Morgan’s voice was rich with amusement. “Think he’ll bring her to the office?”
“Oh, don’t even joke,” Garcia groaned, dramatically flopping onto her couch. “This is going to be the topic of gossip for weeks. Months. Years! I need answers, Derek. Answers!”
Morgan’s chuckle softened. “Good luck getting any. You know how tight-lipped he is.”
Garcia sighed, already plotting her strategy. If anyone could get the inside scoop, it was her.
The streets of Paris were alive with the afternoon bustle as busy Parisians were heading home after a day's work. The sunlight streamed through the wrought-iron balconies and cast warm patterns on the cobblestone streets as the sun started to set. You sat at a small café table nestled in the corner of a quiet terrace, the scent of freshly baked croissants and strong espresso mingling in the air. Across from you, Aaron was the picture of peace, a man who seemed utterly unbothered by the flurry of attention he’d unwittingly garnered in just one night.
On the small table between you sat a glossy gossip magazine, its cover adorned with a candid shot of the two of you from the night before. The headline practically screamed: Supermodel’s Mystery Man: Who Is He? FBI Unit Chief Turns Heads at Paris Fashion Week!
You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and bubbling as you traced a finger over the grainy image of Hotch, his sharp profile and protective grip on your hand immortalized in print. “They’ve already printed it,” you said, your tone a mix of amusement and disbelief.
Aaron leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. His phone buzzed incessantly on the table, the notifications relentless, but he didn’t so much as glance at it. Instead, his focus remained entirely on you, his lips curving into a faint smirk.
“They’re calling you a ‘mystery man,’” you teased, flipping the magazine open to the full-page spread inside. The photos captured every angle of the two of you from last night—the hand-holding, the shared smiles, the way he had leaned in to speak to you amidst the chaos of flashing cameras.
“And here’s my personal favorite,” you added, pointing to a particularly flattering shot of him looking utterly smitten as you had walked down the runway in a set of silver lingerie.
Hotch’s dark eyes flicked to the image before returning to yours. “I think I prefer to keep them guessing,” he said, his voice was warm, he knew that wouldn't be the case. He reached for his coffee, the faintest trace of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Hmm,” you mused, tilting your head as you studied him. “Not sure your team agrees.” You nodded toward his phone, which buzzed again with what had to be its twentieth alert in the last ten minutes.
He sighed, a sound more affectionate than exasperated, and finally picked up the device. “Garcia,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he read a series of increasingly unbelieving messages. “And Morgan,” he added, his smirk deepening.
You rested your chin in your hand, grinning at him. “I told you they’d find out.”
Hotch set the phone back on the table without responding to the messages, his gaze softening as it met yours. “Let them talk,” he said simply, his voice carrying the conviction you adored. “Right now, I’m exactly where I want to be.”
Your chest warmed at his words, and you leaned forward, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Good,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Because I wouldn’t want you anywhere else.”
For a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, the noise and chaos of the city fading into the background below.
“Though,” you added, breaking the moment with a mischievous smile and a wink, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you on next year’s cover of GQ. You know, for the sake of balance.”
Hotch chuckled, the sound so utterly endearing, as he shook his head. “Let’s not get too carried away.”
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#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#aaron hotchner x reader#hotch#hotch thoughts#criminal minds x reader#hotch x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x female reader#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner fanfic#ssa aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch imagine#thomas gibson#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds one shot#criminal minds fanfic#hoe4hotchner answers#criminal minds fluff#hotch fluff#model!reader
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victoria'ssecret!model!reader
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a/n: i have a victoria'ssecret!angel!reader for rafe but since the victoria secret show is happening today i was inspired to do character for mr.drew starkey!
the scholar beauty – she’s not just a victoria’s secret model with a stunning runway presence; she’s also studying psychology and dreams of making an impact beyond the fashion world. her brains are just as impressive as her beauty, and she’s fiercely dedicated to her studies. drew loves bragging about how she balances her demanding career with hitting the books. not only does she ace exams, but she’s also already talking about future plans that go way beyond modeling.
movie night queen – one of her favorite ways to unwind is cozying up to watch movies, especially ones with drew in them. she’s his biggest fan, always hyping up his roles and being the first to support his projects. whether it’s a rom-com or an action film, she knows every line he delivers and always makes sure they have popcorn ready for a perfect movie night in.
first to like and first to gift – whenever drew posts a new photo, she’s the first to like it—always leaving a cute comment to remind him how proud she is. and when he lands a new role, she’s the first to celebrate. whether it’s a thoughtful gift or just showing up with his favorite snack, she always knows how to make him feel special and appreciated.
their first big public appearance – their debut as a couple was at the queer premiere in venice, turning heads on the red carpet. she looked flawless in a sleek dress, and drew couldn’t stop smiling the entire night. it was the first time they really went public with their relationship, and they’ve been the “it” couple ever since. the world got a taste of their undeniable chemistry that night, and they’ve been inseparable ever since.
where it all began – they met at madelyn cline’s birthday party, and sparks flew immediately. neither of them could take their eyes off each other, and from that night on, they’ve been glued together. despite both their busy schedules, they’ve made it work, making time for each other no matter what. from that first meeting, they knew something special was brewing.
age is just a number – being younger than drew stirred up some media buzz, but they don’t let the noise bother them. she’s confident in their love, and her sweet nature won people over quickly. despite some of the controversy around their age gap, she’s become a fan favorite with her down-to-earth personality and how she’s always lifting drew up.
more...
moodboard delivery untitled fittings
taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0
#victoria'ssecret!model!reader#outerbanks rafe#rafe outer banks#drew starkey x y/n#drew starkey x you#Dre#drew obx#drew starkey imagine#drew x reader#drew venice#drew queer#drew#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey#drew starkey x younger!reader#drew starkey smut#drew starkey queer#drew starkey x female reader#drew st
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Hiiii, I love your blog so much. I was wondering if you could do Lando, who's girlfriend is a model. It is during the fashion weeks and she is very exhausted but boyfriend Lando takes care of her and is cheering her on the whole time. Thank you bby 💘
Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!
-xoxo babygirl 🧡
Lights, Camera and Flashes
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The buzzing chaos of Fashion Month had arrived. Yn was in her element, juggling fittings, rehearsals, and back-to-back shows across New York, London, Milan, and Paris. As the world’s most sought-after model, her name was on every designer’s list. Each city meant new challenges, new outfits, and new pressures.
“Babe, are you sure you’re okay?” Lando asked as they touched down in New York for the first leg of the month.
Yn, seated beside him on the private jet, turned to give him a smile. “I’m fine, Lando. Just excited. It’s going to be a long month, but I’ve done this before.”
He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Yeah, but this year, you’re in every major show. You’re human, Yn, not a robot.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said firmly, squeezing his hand. “Especially with you here.”
Lando chuckled. “Alright, but remember, the moment you feel off, you tell me, yeah?”
“Yeah,” she promised.
---
New York
The energy in New York was electric. Yn stepped into the first fitting at Alexander Wang’s studio, where she was immediately swarmed by assistants and stylists. Lando stayed close but out of the way, watching her work with awe.
“You’re staring again,” Yn teased during a break, catching him leaning against the wall with a goofy grin.
“Can’t help it,” he replied. “You’re incredible.”
Show day arrived, and Lando was front and center in the audience, holding a bouquet of red roses. As the music boomed and Yn stepped onto the runway, he couldn’t contain himself.
“Let’s go, Yn!” he shouted, drawing amused glances from nearby attendees.
Yn strutted down the runway, her confidence radiant. She caught Lando’s eyes briefly, a small smile tugging at her lips. When the show ended, Lando was waiting backstage with his bouquet, pulling her into a tight hug.
“You killed it,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“Thanks, babe.”
But as they exited the venue, they were met by a sea of paparazzi. Lando immediately stepped into protective mode, wrapping his arm around Yn’s waist and glaring at anyone who got too close.
“Back up,” he barked, shielding her with his body.
“Lando, it’s okay,” Yn murmured, though she appreciated his protectiveness.
He guided her safely to their car, refusing to let go until they were away from the chaos.
---
London
The second week brought them to London, where Yn had fittings with Burberry and Victoria Beckham. Though she was still riding the high from New York, Lando noticed the subtle changes—her slightly slower pace, the way she leaned on him more often.
“Feeling alright?” he asked one evening as they returned to the hotel.
“Yeah,” she replied, but her voice lacked its usual energy.
Lando wasn’t convinced. After her first show in London, she came backstage to find him waiting with a massive bouquet of lilies.
“You didn’t have to do this again,” she said, though her smile betrayed how much she loved it.
“Of course, I did. You deserve it.”
The paparazzi were even more aggressive in London, shouting questions and shoving cameras in their faces. Lando tightened his grip on Yn’s hand, his jaw set.
“Lando, it’s fine,” she whispered, but he shook his head.
“It’s not fine. They don’t get to treat you like this.”
Once they were safely inside their car, Lando turned to her. “You’re pushing yourself too hard,” he said.
“I can handle it,” she replied softly.
“You shouldn’t have to,” he countered.
---
Milan
By the time they arrived in Milan, Yn’s energy was noticeably lower. Her flawless walk on the runway was still the talk of the industry, but off-stage, she was quieter, more fatigued.
“You’re not eating enough,” Lando pointed out one morning as she picked at her breakfast.
“I’m just not hungry,” she said.
“You’re running on fumes, Yn,” he said, his voice filled with concern.
“I’m fine, Lando,” she insisted, though the dark circles under her eyes told a different story.
Lando doubled down on his support, making sure she had everything she needed. After each show, he was there with flowers, helping her navigate the crowds and shielding her from the paparazzi.
When she came back to the hotel after her third show in Milan, she collapsed onto the bed. Lando didn’t say a word; he simply ordered room service, drew a bath, and set up her favorite playlist.
“Come on, princess,” he said, lifting her gently. “Time to relax.”
---
Paris
By the time they reached Paris, Yn was running on pure determination. Paris Fashion Week was the grand finale, and every major designer wanted her.
Lando could see how hard she was pushing herself, and it worried him.
“Yn, you need to slow down,” he said one evening as they walked back to their suite.
“I can’t,” she replied, her voice cracking. “This is the biggest week of the year.”
“And you’re the biggest model of the year. You’ve already proven yourself,” he argued. “Your health is more important.”
She didn’t respond, but he noticed the tears welling in her eyes.
On the night of her final show, Lando was louder than ever, cheering her on as she walked the runway. When it was over, he met her backstage with the largest bouquet yet.
“You did it,” he said, pulling her into his arms.
“I’m so tired,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face.
“I know, baby. I’ve got you,” he said, kissing her forehead.
---
When they finally returned to their hotel that night, Lando went all out to pamper her. He ordered her favorite food, prepared a warm bubble bath, and queued up her favorite movie.
“Lando,” Yn said as she sank into the bath, “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You don’t have to,” he said, sitting beside the tub. “You’re my princess, Yn. You deserve the world.”
As the movie played later, Yn curled up in Lando’s arms, her head resting on his chest.
“I couldn’t have done this without you,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.
“You don’t have to do anything alone,” he replied, brushing a kiss against her temple. “I’ll always be here for you.”
Yn drifted off to sleep, the exhaustion of the month finally catching up to her. But with Lando by her side, she felt safe, loved, and completely at peace.
And for Lando, there was no greater honor than being her rock.
#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#xoxo babygirl 💋#lando norris x y/n#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris#beautiful model#model!reader#fashion week
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THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (02)
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MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader
Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.
Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.
Word Count: 4.1k
Aliyah's Notes: rafe triple appearances 👏 i actually rlly like this yk like the pacing and the dynamics are great imo. i hope u all will like it too. reader seems like such a jobless ho in this chap but she's booked and busy yall i promise
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As the early morning sunlight streamed through the large windows of your apartment, you stood in front of your full-length mirror, taking a deep breath as she surveyed her reflection. Today was the day—the day you would finally meet Rafe Cameron and discuss the terms of your marriage arrangement. The thought made your stomach flutter with a mix of excitement and anxiety.
Despite your bubbling personality, the pressure of the situation weighed heavily on your shoulders. You had spent the past few days steeling yourself for this moment, and now that it was finally here, the reality of it sent your heart racing.
You glanced at your closet, a vibrant array of outfits hanging neatly. You had planned to wear something that screamed “fabulous”, but time was slipping away from you. You settled on a leopard-print strapless top, pairing it with a denim mini skirt. You slipped on your favorite black heels, which added just the right amount of height and made your legs longer. You grabbed your black Prada bag, a reminder of the success you had fought so hard to achieve.
Despite your nerves, you felt a surge of excitement. This meeting was a step forward resolving your visa issues, and you were determined to make the best of it. You wanted to present yourself as confident, someone who could hold your own—especially when facing someone like Rafe Cameron.
You slipped into the back seat of your private car, offering a quick nod to your driver, Gregory. As the engine purred to life, you felt your heart pounding in your ears, each beat amplifying the weight of anticipation.
When you arrived at the law office, your gaze immediately landed on Nicolas, your lawyer. He stood up from his chair and made his way over, exchanging small talk that felt oddly comforting amid the tension. Together, you entered the meeting room, where Rafe and his lawyer were already waiting for you.
Even seated, his presence dominated the space. His broad shoulders, casual posture, and confident smirk that made him look every bit the arrogant athlete you had read about. His lawyer, Sabrina Rashid, sat beside him, a sharply dressed woman who radiated professionalism. Rafe, on the other hand, looked annoyingly relaxed in a plain white t-shirt and black jeans.
Well, this made you look overdressed… Embarrassing, but you kept your head held high.
Nicolas gestured toward the table. “Shall we?”
You slid into the chair opposite Rafe, offering a small nod to his lawyer before turning your attention to him. His blue eyes flickered over you, lingering longer than necessary. You could practically feel his ego inflate with every second.
“You’re late,” he drawled, breaking the silence. His voice was as cocky as his expression.
You arched a brow, setting your Prada bag on the table with a soft thud. “Hello to you too—and you’re lucky I showed up at all, considering your reputation.”
He smiled. “Feisty. I like that.”
And so, you cringed at his words. You rolled your eyes, refusing to take the bait. “Let’s get to the point, shall we?”
Nico cleared his throat, clearly eager to steer the conversation to business. “Yes, well, the purpose of today’s meeting is to discuss the logistics of the marriage arrangement—specifically, where you’ll be living, financial obligations, and how this will be handled publicly.”
“Publicly?” you repeated, frowning slightly. “I thought this was supposed to be discreet.”
Rafe shrugged. “I don’t do discreet, sweetheart.”
You shot him a glare. “I am not your sweetheart.”
“Not yet, but wait ‘till we’re married.”
You blinked at him, caught off guard by his audacity, but recovered. “This isn’t going to be like that. We’re not doing some fake, lovey-dovey routine for the press.”
Rafe leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Who said anything about love? I’m talking about looking like a normal couple, someone the media can’t tear apart every other week. It’s all about appearances, sweetheart.”
“Stop calling me sweetheart.”
“Whatever you say,” he grinned. “Plus, you gotta admit, you and I? We’d be a headline every day, sweetheart.”
“Is he serio—”
Nico stepped in before you could respond. “Alright, enough. Let’s get back on track.” He glanced at Rafe’s lawyer, who nodded and opened a folder.
“First item on the agenda: where will you two be living?” Sabrina asked, her tone professional and no-nonsense. “Given that this marriage is primary for legal purposes, we need to establish residency. For it to be legitimate, you will need to live together.”
You shot a look at Rafe, who was already smirking like he’d won some kind of silent argument. “I’m not moving in with him,” you said flatly.
“You think I’m thrilled about having a roommate? Especially one who probably spends hours in front of the mirror.”
You crossed your arms. “I do not.”
Lies.
“Oh, please. You’re a model. You probably have a different skincare for every day of the week.”
“And it’s supposed to be a bad thing because…?” You frowned. “You should take exemple. You look like you wash your face with body soap.”
Nico pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s focus, kids.”
Rafe’s lawyer continued, ignoring the banter. “You’ll need to appear as though you’re cohabiting. If not, immigration authorities will become suspicious, and the arrangement could fall apart.”
You narrowed your eyes at Rafe. “Where do you live, anyway?”
He learned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’ve got a place in SoHo. Penthouse. Nice view, great amenities. It’s got plenty of space for you to do… whatever it is models do.”
“Funny, I have my place in the Upper East Side. And I am not giving it up.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Upper East Side, huh? Posh.”
“I earned it.”
“Well, we’ll need to figure something out,” Sabrina interjected smoothly. “But you need to live together. In one place.”
Rafe looked amused. “You can have the closet space. I’m a sweet guy like that.”
“How generous,” you muttered, turning back to the lawyers. “Fine. We can do the whole ‘living in one place together’ thing. But I need time off, to stay at my place once in a while.”
Rafe winked. “Wouldn’t want to cramp your style.”
You ignored him. “What about finances? How is this going to work?”
Nico pulled out his own folder. “We’ve drafted a preliminary agreement outlining financial contributions from both parties. It’s important that this marriage appears legitimate, so we suggest pooling certain expenses—utilities, rent or mortgage payments, and shared household costs. This can be done through a joint account, which will be monitored to ensure the marriage looks genuine.”
You could feel Rafe’s eyes on you, and you shot him a look. “A joint account? I hope you’re not expecting me to pay for your post-game drinks?”
He chuckled. “Relax. I’ve got more money than you can spend in a lifetime. The joint account is just for show. But if you want to chip in for groceries, I won’t stop you.”
“Oh, how noble of you,” you replied dryly.
Nico glanced between you and Rafe, clearly trying to keep the conversation on track. “This account will cover all necessary shared expenses—bills, groceries, and any incidentals that may arise from your living arrangements. It’ll help maintain the appearance of a genuine marriage.”
Sabrina nodded in agreement. “Exactly. As for your individual assets, those will remain separate. No need to worry about your personal finances getting tangled up.”
You relaxed a little at that. “Good.”
“And what about public appearances?” Rafe asked, sounding surprisingly serious. “How often do we need to do the whole ‘happy couple’ thing?”
Nico exchanged a look with Rafe’s lawyer. “You’ll need to be seen together frequently enough to make it believable, but not so much that it seems forced. A few key events—charity galas, public outings—will suffice. It’s important that you strike a balance.”
Rafe shrugged. “I’ve got games, events, plenty of opportunities to be seen.”
You sighed. “I have shoots, fashion shows, and meetings. We’re both busy.”
“Sounds like we’ll have to schedule our love life,” he quipped, flashing you a grin that made you want to throttle at him.
You gave him a sweet smile. “Good thing it’s not real.”
He laughed, and for a second, the tension in the room eased.
Nico shuffled his papers. “There’s one more thing to discuss—media coverage. Given that Mr. Cameron is already in the spotlight, it’s important to control the narrative.”
Sabrina continued; “We’ll need to issue a carefully crafted statement once the marriage is official. Something that explains how you met, why you’re together, and addresses any potential rumors before they can spiral out of control.”
“A public statement?” You cringed at the thought.
“It’s necessary,” Nico said. “If this looks like a publicity stunt, it could raise red flags with immigration.”
Rafe leaned back in his chair, looking far too relaxed for the situation. “Don’t worry, we’ll make it believable. I’m great with the media.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what worries me,” you muttered.
He smirked. “Come on, sweetie. We’ll be the hottest couple in New York. Think of the headlines.”
“I’d rather not,” you moved your hands dismissively.
The lawyer continued discussing the finer details of the arrangement—contract clauses, confidentiality agreements, and timelines. You zoned out for a moment, your eyes drifting back to Rafe. Despite his infuriating attitude, there was something about him. Something that made you feel like this might not be the worst decision after all.
“I hope you’re prepared for the spotlight,” he said suddenly, snapping you back to reality. “The media’s gonna eat this up.”
You arched a brow. “Please. I’ve been in the spotlight longer than you have, and with far less drama.”
He grinned. “We’ll see about that.”
You leaned forward, meeting his gaze head-on, the space between you suddenly charged. “I’m not one of your little fangirls, Rafe. You might charm the media, but you’re not charming me.”
His smirk faltered, just for a second, replaced by something darker, more intense. His gaze dipped, lingering on your exposed cleavage, heat flaring in his eyes. You felt a spark, your breath catching as your own eyes betrayed you, flickering to his lips—pink, curved, and way too tempting for your liking. The air between you thickened, crackling with an unspoken challenge, the playful banter giving way to something far more dangerous.
Rafe’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and for a moment, you forgot where you were, the weight of his stare pulling you in. The thought of what it would feel like to wipe that cocky grin off his face—or maybe even taste it—flickering through your mind.
But then Nico cleared his throat, shattering the moment like glass, and you quickly sat back, your heart racing as you wrenched your gaze away from Rafe’s.
“So, we have a deal?” Rafe asked, cutting through the tension.
You glanced at Nico, who gave you a subtle nod of reassurance. With a deep breath, you turned to Rafe and extended your hand. “Yes, we do.”
His hand clasped yours, warm and firm. “Looking forward to being your husband, sweetheart.”
“Looking forward to not being your wife,” you rolled your eyes, pulling your hand back. “This is purely business. Don’t get any ideas.”
“Whatever you say, wife.”
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The next few days passed in a blur of contracts, legal jargon, and meetings with Nico, Sabrina, and Rafe. You had signed your life away—well, not really your life, but it certainly felt like it.
You were lounging in your Upper East Side apartment, scrolling through Instagram when your phone buzzed.
Rafe Cameron.
Just seeing his name made your stomach tighten with a mix of irritation and something else you couldn’t quite place. Hesitantly, you opened the message.
Rafe: “When do you plan on moving in?”
You stared at the screen for a second before typing.
You: “I’m not even packed yet… what the hell.”
Rafe: “What you waiting for? You’re not chickening out, are you, sweetheart?”
There it was again—sweetheart. That nickname got on your nerves, but you were determined not to let him get under your skin (although he already did).
You: “Stop calling me that, and also I have a job and a life. I can’t just drop everything to move into your stinky place.”
Rafe: “I’m offering help.”
You snorted at your phone. Right, because Rafe Cameron would actually help you pack your boxes.
You: “What are you gonna do? Carry my shoes for me?”
Rafe: “If it gets you here faster, then sure. I’ll be here tomorrow.”
Your eyes widened. Was he serious? You couldn’t picture Rafe Cameron, basketball star and all-around cocky jerk, standing in your apartment, packing boxes and loading them into a truck. The mental image alone was laughable.
You: “Wait! No!”
Rafe: “Why no? You need a few more days to decide on what to pick?”
You: “Jerk.”
Rafe: ":)"
You: “And I can’t move in yet. We need to make a public appearance and get married before I start packing and do all the move-in things.”
There was a pause before his response came through.
Rafe: “Fair.”
You: “Excited to live with me, am I right?”
Rafe: “Projecting much?”
You: “You wish.”
Rafe: “Ditto, sweetheart.”
You rolled your eyes. You quickly clicked on the rolling eyes emoji as a response and threw your phone onto the couch, not wanting to keep talking to him.
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The next morning, you blinked your eyes open, greeted by the familiar warmth of your apartment, and for a fleeting moment, you forgot about everything. The visage, the arrangement, the pressure, the stress, immigration, Rafe Cameron—all of it felt distant, like a strange dream.
But then reality settled back in.
You groaned softly, burying your face into your pillow for a second longer before sighing and throwing off the covers. Today was yet another meeting with the lawyers, and you already were over it.
You knew marriage was a lot of papers and documents, but you truly didn’t think it was this much.
Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you padded across the plush carpet to your closet, glancing at the outfits hanging neatly in a row. Usually, your first thought would be what designer outfit to wear today but you couldn’t muster the energy to care this morning. Today wasn’t about looking fabulous; it was about getting down to business, and you didn’t care how you looked because you’d be stuck in a room for hours with two lawyers and your future husband.
Future husband… God, how weird was it to say that about a man you didn’t even know.
Instead of focusing on it, you reached for a pair of soft gray sweatpants and a simple white tank top. You pulled a thick, cozy grey cardigan over your shoulders, its warmth a small comfort against the stress building in your mind.
As you made your way to the kitchen, your phone buzzed on the countertop, and for a moment, you thought it might be Rafe. But no, it was just a reminder from Nico about the meeting. You sighed, grabbed a cup of coffee, slipped into the backseat of your car and headed to the law office.
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The law office was as sleek and imposing as ever—polished wood, glass walls, and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. You stepped into the conference room, finding Nicolas and Sabrina already seated at the table, a stack of papers in front of them. They looked up and offered polite smiles as you entered.
“Morning,” you said, taking a seat and smoothing the sleeves of your cardigan.
“Morning, Y/N,” Nico replied, his tone friendly but businesslike. “How’re you feeling?”
You hesitated, offering a half-hearted smile. “A bit nervous and tired, I guess. But ready to get things moving.”
Nico nodded, glancing at the empty seat beside you before opening his mouth to speak, but Sabrina beat him to it.
“Hello, Ms. Y/L/N, just to let you know—Rafe won’t be joining us today.”
Your heart sank, but you tried not to show it. “Oh? Why’s that?”
“Last-minute practice session,” she explained, her tone casual. “It was unavoidable, apparently. He couldn’t get out of it.”
You nodded slowly, processing the information. It wasn’t that you were angry—just… bothered. This was an important meeting, after all. Even though this marriage was fake, it still involved a lot of big decisions. Decisions you didn’t feel comfortable making without him.
“Okay,” you said after a moment. “I guess we’ll have to catch him up later, then.”
Sabrina gave you a sympathetic look. “I’ll make sure he’s informed about everything. I know it’s frustrating, but Rafe’s schedule can be pretty unpredictable.”
“I get it,” you replied with a shrug, trying to convince yourself it wasn’t that big of a deal. “It’s just... this is important, you know? It would’ve been nice to have him here for this.”
“I understand,” Sabrina said gently. “And I’ll make sure he’s fully briefed on everything. He’s committed to this, even if it doesn’t always seem that way.”
You nodded, still feeling a bit unsettled but trying to brush it off. He was used to a chaotic schedule, and you couldn’t expect him to drop everything for every meeting. But still... you couldn’t shake the slight discomfort gnawing at you.
“Okay,” you said, trying to focus on the task at hand. “So, what’s the plan for today?”
Nico flipped through the stack of papers in front of him. “We’ve got a lot to cover. First off, the wedding itself. We need to finalize a date, and given your visa situation, we’re looking at a timeline of about three weeks.”
“Three weeks?!” you exclaimed, immediately covering your mouth with your hand. It was sooner than you’d expected, but you understood the urgency. “Sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Nico said, waving his hands. “We need to move quickly. The sooner the marriage is official, the sooner we can start the immigration process. And in the meantime, you and Rafe will need to be seen together publicly—on dates, outings, and even social media.”
You chewed the inside of your cheek, feeling a little overwhelmed. “Public appearances... right. How often are we talking?”
“Enough to make it believable,” Sabrina took over. “We don’t want to overwhelm you, but it’s important that you’re seen together frequently. A few key public outings, some posts on social media—it’ll help establish the narrative that you’re a real couple.”
You nodded. “And Rafe’s on board with all of this?”
“He is,” Sabrina reassured you. “We’ve discussed it, and he knows what’s required.”
“Okay,” you said, feeling a bit more reassured but still uneasy. The idea of staging your life for the public was daunting. It wasn’t just about attending a few events or posting pictures—it was about selling the image of a relationship that didn’t exist. And with Rafe not even here for the planning, you couldn’t help but feel a little disconnected from it all.
You smiled faintly. “It just feels... strange, doing all of this without Rafe. I mean, I know it’s a fake marriage, but it would still be nice to have him involved, you know?”
“I understand,” Sabrina said. “It’s not ideal, but Rafe’s committed to this. His schedule is unpredictable right now, but that doesn’t mean he’s not invested in making this work.”
You nodded, trying to take comfort in her words. Maybe Rafe’s absence wasn’t a sign of disinterest—maybe it was just bad timing.
Nico continued, flipping through the papers. “Let’s move on to the wedding itself. Have you given any thought to what kind of ceremony you want?”
“Honestly, I haven’t thought about it at all.”
“Alright,” Nico said, nodding.
“A small ceremony,” you echoed, thinking it over. “It… It could be nice, no? That could work—but shouldn’t Rafe have a say in this?”
“He will,” Nico assured you. “Mrs. Rashid will loop him in on everything. But for now, we need to focus on logistics. The venue, the guest list, the timeline—it’s all about making sure everything looks legitimate to immigration.”
“Okay. Let’s go with the small ceremony, then. But I’d still like Rafe’s input before we make any final decisions,” you said softly, your cheeks warming slightly.
“Of course,” both lawyers said with a smile.
The conversation shifted to the finer details—the venue, the guest list, the timing of public appearances. It felt more like planning an elaborate PR campaign than a wedding, but you tried to stay focused. Every decision was one step closer to securing your future, even if it didn’t feel real.
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The meeting felt like a marathon. You exhaled a long, tired sigh, your head spinning with wedding details and timelines. You couldn’t help but glance at your phone again, half-expecting a message from Rafe. But there was nothing. He was at practice, wrapped up in whatever game plan his team was working on.
You adjusted the strap of your tote bag and pulled your cardigan tighter around yourself as you headed for the door. But as you opened it, you stopped short, nearly walking straight into someone standing just outside.
“Whoa—” A familiar voice interrupted your thoughts, and you blinked up to see Rafe Cameron standing there, leaning against the doorframe, as if he had been waiting for you.
“Rafe?” you blurted out, surprise laced in your voice. You hadn’t expected him to be here, especially after Sabrina said he wouldn’t make it.
He straightened up quickly, looking just as startled as you. “Y/N… uh, hey. I—uh, I’m sorry I missed the meeting,” he stammered, his usual confident demeanor slipping for a moment. “I couldn’t miss practice…”
You stood there, momentarily frozen. It wasn’t like him to stutter—and it threw you off. “Oh… right. Yeah, no, it’s fine, don’t worry. Sabrina said you had practice,” you said, trying to brush off the awkwardness.
He shifted his weight, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Yeah, I, uh… tried to make it, but, you know… basketball.”
You nodded slowly, still surprised that he had actually shown up. “Well, the meeting’s over. Sabrina said she’ll catch you up on what we discussed.”
“Right, yeah, I’ll talk to her,” he mumbled.
“Yeah, so... goodbye?”
“Goodbye,” he said, looking down at the floor for a second before glancing back at you. There was a brief, awkward silence that stretched between the two of you. Neither of you moved, though you weren’t sure why.
Finally, Rafe cleared his throat, and his gaze flickered over your outfit. A slow smirk crept onto his face, his familiar cockiness returning. “So... what’s with the sweatpants and cardigan? Didn’t know you had it in you to dress so casually.”
You blinked at him, caught off guard by the teasing tone. “Excuse me?”
He shrugged, his smirk widening. “Just saying... it’s not exactly the runway look I was expecting from a supermodel.”
You felt a laugh bubble up in your throat before you could stop it. “You’re one to talk, Mr. I-show-up-in-a-T-shirt-to-a-business-meeting,” you shot back, your lips curving into a smile.
Rafe’s eyes lit up slightly, surprised by your reaction. It was the first time you had actually laughed at something he said, and for a moment, he just stared at you, taking in the sound. Cute, he thought to himself, the word slipping into his mind unbidden.
“At least my T-shirt was designer. This,” he flicked his gaze over your cardigan, “looks like something you stole from your grandma’s closet.”
You gasped, feigning offense. “I happen to like this cardigan, thank you very much. It’s cozy.”
He grinned. “Cozy, is it? Guess you’re preparing for the life of domestic bliss we’re about to have. How cute.”
You shook your head, fighting another smile. “Funny—like you even know the meaning of domestic bliss.”
He tilted his head, his smirk never faltering. “Who says I don’t? I could be all about the cozy life. You don’t know me.”
You arched a brow. “Really? You? In sweatpants, lounging on a couch, binge-watching Netflix?”
“I can be a homebody if I want to,” he said, shrugging, though the teasing glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t being serious. “Give me some credits, alright? I can rock sweatpants.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Maybe you will. You’ll be living with me soon enough—” you froze slightly at that reminder, and your smile wavered. He noticed the shift and cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’ll make sure to show up to the next meeting. Promise.”
You gave him a small nod, still smiling. “You’d better.”
He nodded, and for the first time since you’d met, there was no teasing in his expression—just quiet understanding. You gave him one last look before heading down the hall, feeling the warmth of your laugh still lingering in the air between you.
And Rafe stood there watching you walk away, thinking about how cute your laugh was—and how much he wanted to hear it again.
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chapter three
#aliyah works#the contracted heart#model!reader#rafe cameron#obx#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe x reader#outer banks#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe fanfiction#aliyahs misc#rafe cameron prompt#rafe obx#rafe cameron fluff#rafe smut#rafe outer banks#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x female reader#obx rafe cameron#obx smut#drew starkey smut#drew starkey#drew starkey x reader
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HEAR ME OUT! You can do this when you aren’t busy. But Theo with a model!gf!Reader. I had this idea while listening to model edit audios and the thought of Theodore with a model gf seems so real😕
HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!
© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified
i love this concept sm , the great hall was abuzz with the usual morning chatter as students filled in for breakfast. theodore nott sat among his friends at the slytherin table, a magazine open before him. the glassy cover displayed a stunning picture of you, his model girlfriend, your striking features and confident pose making you the centerpiece of the latest fashion trends.
mattheo, enzo, blaise, draco, and pansy were engaged in their own conversation, but theo’s attitude was glued to the magazine. he traced his fingers over the image of you, a mixture of pride and irritation brewing within him.
“can you believe this?” theo muttered under his nose, finally looking up to address his friends. “i bet some gits are wanking their shit to this magazine because of her.”
mattheo snorted, glancing over at the cover with a smirk gracing his face. “jealous much, nott?”
theo rolled his eyes and closed the magazine with a loud snap! “it’s not just jealousy. it’s the principle of it. she deserves better than to be ogled by every creep who buys it.”
“you bought it,” enzo exclaimed while chewing on his toast.
pansy smirked as she snatched the magazine from theo’s reach and openly gazed at the displayed picture of you, not hiding the way she was checking you out. “well, you can’t blame them. she does look amazing.”
before theo could come up with a retort of his own, the subject of their conversation walked into the great hall. you were a vision of effortless beauty, even in your school robes, and your presence seemed to command attention without you even trying. you caught sight of your boyfriend and your friends, your face lighting up with a radiant smile.
as you approached the slytherin table, theo’s irritation melted away, replaced by a warmth that spread through his chest. you slid into the seat next to him, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek.
“morning.”
“good morning.”
blaise leaned in, a teasing glint in his eyes. "theo was just saying how jealous he gets, thinking about all those boys fawning over you."
you raised an eyebrow and looked at theo with a playful smile. "jealous, huh?"
theo shrugged while a sheepish smirk formed on his face. "can you blame me? look at you."
you kissed him again, this time on the lips and lingering a bit longer. "you're sweet, theo. but you don't have to worry. i'm all yours."
pansy rolled her eyes, though her expression showed she was everything but annoyed. she cherished seeing her friends happy for once. "alright, lovebirds. can we eat now?"
#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott x you#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott fluff#theodore nott oneshot#theodore nott fic#theodore nott fanfiction#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott drabble#theodore nott#theo nott one shot#x reader#reader insert#theo nott fic#theo nott x reader#theo nott imagine#theo nott fanfiction#theo nott x y/n#theo nott x you#theo nott fluff#theo nott#harry potter x reader#harry potter x you#harry potter imagine#harry potter fanfiction#hp x you#hp x reader#slytherin boys#slytherin boys x reader#model!reader
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TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY ; quinn hughes.
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♡ 。゚・ pair: quinn hughes x fmc (madison, cindy kimberly face claim)
♡ 。゚・ word count: 52.1k
♡ 。゚・ synopsis: before becoming a world-known model, madison carter was someone else. she was quinn hughes’ best friend, and he was her favorite person in the world. until things changed and nothing was ever the same.
♡ 。゚・ what to expect: nsfw, childhood-friends-to-lovers, famous model fmc, hurt/comfort, shitty family but also! found family, angst, happy ending.
— author’s note: for young me, and for all the people who once thought that what they had wasn’t enough. spoiler alert, it was.
nhl masterlist.
— theme song: you too by chase atlantic.
main female character:
Madison Carter
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— “do you know how much pain it took to make me this kind?”.
— makes the best blueberry pie in the entire world.
— does it smell like vanilla? spectacular give me fourteen of ‘em right now.
— dog lover.
— #1 fan of chocolate chip pancakes and gravity falls.
before you read.
0. warnings;
00. meet madison carter;
00.1. the first time you saw quinn;
00.2. the first time quinn brought you to his house;
00.3. the last time you and quinn saw each other;
chapters.
𖧷 chapter one
𖧷 chapter two
𖧷 chapter three
𖧷 chapter four
𖧷 chapter five
𖧷 chapter six
𖧷 chapter seven
𖧷 chapter eight
𖧷 chapter nine
𖧷 chapter ten
𖧷 chapter eleven
𖧷 chapter twelve
𖧷 chapter thirteen
𖧷 epilogue
after you read:
smau | quinn and madison through the years
#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes x oc#quinn hughes x you#quinn hughes x model!fmc#quinn hughes angst#quinn hughes au#quinn hughes fic#TYPA#qh43#vancouver canucks#canucks#canucks hockey#vancouver canucks x oc#vancouver canucks fic#vancouver canucks imagine
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VICTORIAS SECRET— steve rogers
WARNINGS: smut
Steve Rogers was used to surprises. Time travel? Sure. Aliens? No problem. But the one thing he never saw coming was his girlfriend keeping a secret this big.
You had been dating for a few months now, and while Steve was perceptive, he was also a gentleman—meaning he never pried too much into your career. You had told him you worked in fashion, and he had taken it at face value, picturing you behind the scenes: maybe as a stylist or a designer. Never once had he imagined you were the one on the runway.
So when you invited him to your latest fashion event, he accepted with a smile, completely unaware of what was in store.
“Just a little show,” you had said nonchalantly. “It would mean a lot if you came.”
Of course, he had agreed instantly. Supporting you was a given.
That’s how Steve Rogers—former Captain America, super soldier, Brooklyn’s own—found himself sitting front row at a Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show, surrounded by flashing cameras, celebrities, and a sea of impossibly gorgeous women strutting down the catwalk in delicate lace and silk.
To say he was stunned would be an understatement.
His blue eyes widened as the realization hit him like a freight train. You were a model. And not just any model—a Victoria’s Secret Angel.
A hush fell over the crowd as the lights dimmed for the next set. Music pulsed through the venue, and suddenly, there you were.
Steve swore his heart stopped.
Dressed in a sultry, lace ensemble, your wings framing you like something ethereal, you walked with effortless grace. Confidence radiated off you, your expression poised yet alluring.
And then—your eyes locked onto his.
Steve felt his throat go dry. He was certain his ears were burning, but he couldn’t look away. The little smirk playing on your lips told him everything.
You knew exactly what you were doing.
As you reached the edge of the runway, you gave him the briefest wink before pivoting and walking back, leaving him reeling.
Bucky, who had somehow ended up in the seat beside him, leaned in with an amused chuckle. “You good, pal? You look like you just walked into battle without a shield.”
Steve blinked, exhaling sharply as he raked a hand through his hair. “She—she never told me.”
“That she’s a model?”
“That she’s this kind of model.” His voice was hoarse, filled with a mix of awe, admiration, and something else entirely.
Bucky smirked, patting his shoulder. “Well, Rogers, looks like you’ve been dating an Angel and didn’t even know it.”
Steve barely heard him. His focus was entirely on you.
And the second this show was over—he and you were going to have a very interesting conversation.
The second the show ended, Steve was already on his feet.
He maneuvered through the crowd with practiced ease, ignoring the lingering flashes of cameras and the murmurs of models and celebrities. He had only one thing on his mind—you.
Backstage was a whirlwind of chaos. Makeup artists, designers, and models fluttered about in silk robes, celebrating the success of the night. But the moment you spotted Steve, standing rigid with those piercing blue eyes locked onto you, a thrill shot down your spine.
You had expected surprise. You had even expected mild disbelief. But what you hadn’t expected was this particular look—half awe, half something darker.
“Steve,” you greeted smoothly, pulling the tie of your robe a little tighter. “Enjoy the show?”
He exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. “That depends. Are we gonna talk about the fact that my girlfriend is a Victoria’s Secret Angel, and I had no damn clue?”
You chuckled, stepping closer. “I don’t know, Rogers. You handled finding out about aliens and time travel just fine. But this?” You gestured down at yourself. “This one got you, huh?”
His jaw tightened, and you swore you saw his Adam’s apple bob as his gaze flickered down, just for a second. “You could’ve told me.”
“Would you have come if I had?”
Steve hesitated. You had him there.
“You always thought I worked in fashion,” you continued, tilting your head. “I just never corrected you.”
His arms crossed over his broad chest, his stance unwavering. “That’s called lying by omission, sweetheart.”
You grinned, stepping even closer until you were toe-to-toe with him. The backstage chaos faded into white noise as the tension crackled between you.
“You mad?” you murmured, trailing a finger down the buttons of his shirt.
His breath hitched.
“No,” he admitted, voice rough. “Just—” He exhaled, his large hands landing firmly on your waist, fingers pressing into the soft silk of your robe. “Jesus, doll. You nearly gave me a heart attack out there.”
You smirked, looping your arms around his neck. “I think you handled it just fine. Although…” Your lips brushed the shell of his ear as you whispered, “You should’ve seen your face when I winked at you.”
Steve groaned, his grip on you tightening. “You did that on purpose.”
“Of course I did.”
His fingers skimmed your lower back, pulling you just a fraction closer. His voice dropped to something that sent heat straight to your core. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Maybe.” You brushed a slow kiss to his jaw. “But so are you.”
His sharp inhale told you all you needed to know.
Bucky’s voice suddenly cut through the haze. “Alright, lovebirds. Get a room. Preferably not this one, because half of New York is watching.”
You laughed softly against Steve’s skin, but he just turned, leveling Bucky with a glare. “You got somewhere else to be, Barnes?”
Bucky smirked. “Nah, I think I’ll stick around. Watching Cap get flustered is gold.”
Steve sighed, turning back to you. “We’re leaving.”
His fingers laced with yours, firm and possessive, as he all but guided you toward the exit.
As you followed, you leaned in, voice sultry and teasing. “And where exactly are we going, Captain?”
Steve’s smirk was slow, his voice laced with promise. “Home. Where you and I are really gonna talk about this.”
Your stomach flipped at the look in his eyes.
Maybe—just maybe—keeping this little secret had been entirely worth it.
The car ride home was charged.
Steve hadn’t said much since pulling you out of the venue. He sat beside you in the backseat, one arm slung casually over the seat, the other resting on his thigh. But there was nothing casual about the way his fingers tapped against his knee or the way his jaw remained clenched, as if he were forcing himself to keep his thoughts in check.
You, on the other hand, were thriving on the tension.
With a playful smirk, you turned to him. “You’ve been quiet.”
Steve flicked his eyes toward you. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
His fingers twitched. “About how my girlfriend walked in front of a few million people in nothing but lace and a pair of wings—without telling me first.”
You bit back a grin. “Ah. That.”
“Yes. That.”
You tilted your head. “Let me guess—you didn’t like it?”
His blue eyes darkened. “That’s not the problem.”
Your pulse jumped.
Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair before finally looking at you fully. “You’re… you. Of course, you looked incredible. That’s not what got me.”
You arched a brow. “Then what did?”
He leaned in, his voice low. “Every single guy in that room was looking at you like that.”
Your smirk grew. “That?”
His jaw ticked. “Like they wanted you.”
You hummed, tilting your body slightly toward him. “But they don’t have me.”
Steve’s nostrils flared.
The car slowed as the driver pulled up to your apartment. Steve was out first, rounding the car before you even reached for the handle. He opened the door for you, his hand immediately settling against the small of your back as he guided you toward the building.
His touch was warm. Firm.
Possessive.
The second you stepped inside your apartment, he closed the door behind you, locking it with a soft click.
You barely had a second to turn before Steve was on you.
He pressed you gently but firmly against the door, his hands bracing on either side of you. His scent—clean, masculine, laced with a hint of cologne—wrapped around you as his broad frame towered over yours.
Your breath hitched.
His voice was low, steady. “You enjoy driving me insane, don’t you?”
Your fingers trailed up his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath. “A little bit.”
He huffed out a quiet laugh, but his eyes burned with something deeper. “You’re impossible.”
You grinned. “And yet, here you are.”
Steve’s hand brushed down your arm, his fingers skimming the silk of your robe. His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles on your wrist, the feather-light touch sending a shiver up your spine.
“Do you have any idea what you did to me tonight?” he murmured.
Your pulse pounded. “Why don’t you tell me, Captain?”
His breath fanned against your cheek as he leaned in, lips just shy of yours. “Oh, sweetheart…” His voice was a promise. A warning.
And then—his lips were on yours.
The kiss was slow at first, teasing. But when you sighed against his mouth, melting into him, something in him snapped.
His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing you further into the door.
You gasped when his lips trailed down, skimming your jaw, your throat. “Steve—”
“Hmm?” His lips hovered over your pulse point.
You shivered. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”
He chuckled against your skin. “No, sweetheart.” His fingers traced the silk of your robe, toying with the belt. “But you are in trouble.”
Heat pooled in your stomach. “Oh?”
His lips ghosted over yours once more, his blue eyes dark and smoldering.
“Oh.”
Your breath hitched as Steve’s fingers toyed with the knot of your silk robe, his touch feather-light yet deliberate. His lips barely brushed against yours—teasing, waiting.
Your heart pounded. “What kind of trouble are we talking about?”
Steve’s smirk was slow, wicked. “The kind where you make me lose my mind in public and I return the favor in private.”
Your stomach flipped.
His hand traced down your side, dragging along the soft silk, his fingertips igniting heat beneath your skin. “You knew exactly what you were doing tonight, didn’t you?”
You grinned. “I might’ve had an idea.”
His other hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to him. “Watching you up there, knowing everyone was looking at you…” His voice was rough, laced with something darker. “I won’t lie, sweetheart. It got to me.”
You bit your lip, eyes dancing with mischief. “You jealous, Captain?”
His fingers tightened ever so slightly on your waist. “Not jealous.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he murmured, “Possessive.”
A shiver ran down your spine.
His hands slid to your hips, gripping just enough to make you gasp. “You walked that runway like you owned the world,” he murmured, his nose skimming your jaw. “Like you knew every man in that room wanted you.”
Your lips curled. “Maybe I was thinking about someone specific.”
His breath hitched. “Yeah?”
You nodded, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. “Maybe I was wondering how fast my boyfriend would drag me home the second the show ended.”
Steve groaned, his forehead pressing against yours for a beat. His control was slipping, and you loved it.
“I should make you pay for that,” he muttered.
You grinned. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”
His blue eyes darkened, a slow smirk tugging at his lips.
“Oh, sweetheart…” His fingers curled around the belt of your robe, giving it a slow, deliberate tug.
“I’ll show you.”
Steve’s eyes were dark with desire as he scooped you up effortlessly, his arms strong as he carried you toward the bedroom. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively, feeling the heat between you escalate. He kicked the door open with his foot and gently lowered you onto the bed. His gaze never left you, a quiet, burning intensity in his eyes as he followed you down.
His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every dip and rise, as if he were savoring the moment. He took his time, undressing you slowly, deliberately—piece by piece—like he was uncovering a masterpiece. Every inch of skin revealed made his touch more reverent, more eager.
“You’re perfect,” he muttered, eyes tracing the lines of your body. His fingers lingered on your skin, worshiping every contour, every soft curve. “You’re more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”
You shivered under his touch, biting your lip as his hands slid lower, brushing against your chest. His thumb brushed over your nipple, sending a shockwave of pleasure straight to your core. A loud moan escaped you, your back arching involuntarily.
“Steve… please…” Your voice was breathless, needy.
His lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin. His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, “I’ve got you, baby. Just relax.” His hand moved lower, tracing your body as though he couldn’t get enough.
He paused, pulling away just long enough to reach into his pocket, pulling out a condom and tearing the wrapper with practiced ease. His eyes never left yours as he prepared, his expression filled with something feral. You could feel your pulse racing in anticipation.
When he finally positioned himself above you, he slid inside slowly, filling you completely. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever experienced—stretching you, filling you in ways that made your breath catch. You gasped, your nails digging into his back as you adjusted to the fullness of him.
Steve groaned, his voice low and strained. “God, you feel so good.” He moved slowly at first, savoring every inch of connection. But as you urged him on, your body begging for more, he picked up the pace, the rhythm between you growing frantic, desperate.
Every thrust hit spots you didn’t even know existed, sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. It was overwhelming, the waves of ecstasy crashing down on you, filling you with a sensation that made your entire body tremble.
“Steve… don’t stop. Please,” you gasped, your voice shaky. “I need you. Now.”
His name tumbled from your lips in a desperate cry, louder with each passing second, and when he finally brought you over the edge, your body tensed as the pleasure consumed you. The connection between you two felt like the very air around you was crackling with electricity.
Steve’s pace faltered, his body shuddering as he reached his own release. He collapsed beside you, pulling you close, his breath ragged, his forehead pressed against yours.
“That… was beyond anything I ever thought possible,” he breathed, his hands still running over your skin as if to remind himself that you were real, right there with him.
You smiled softly, still catching your breath. “I don’t think I’ll be walking straight for days,” you teased, though your heart was still racing from the intensity of it all.
Steve chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because I don’t think I’ll be letting you go anytime soon.”
You snuggled into his chest, feeling the warmth of his embrace, both of you savoring the stillness that followed the storm.
#avengers#x reader#reader insert#x female reader#the avengers#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers x reader#smut marvel#steve rogers smut#marvel smut#smut#steve rogers x female reader#model reader#victoria secret#victoria secert model#modeling
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